


so this is love (just hold me close, i'll never leave)

by LittleSpectre



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Bonding, Dialogue Heavy, Don't copy to another site, F/F, Flashbacks, Fluff, Healthy Relationships, Little bit of angst, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Post-Canon, five year time skip, happy healthy Catra is what I yearn for, if canon isn't giving us Magicats by george I'll do it myself, post-redemption, so this is really self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21964057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpectre/pseuds/LittleSpectre
Summary: “How much longer are you going to be in Brightmoon?”Catra stops on a half circle. She glances at Bow through the corner of her eyes. “Until the end of next month.” One month. That’s the time she has left in Brightmoon. The time she has left with Adora. Her ears wilt slightly. She’d been in Brightmoon for the past month and a half now, establishing a new treaty between the kingdoms and once her mother arrives, she’ll be attending another talk.“Wow, time sure does fly.” Bow whistles, drying the bowl, and then wiping the counter before toweling his hands. “Does Adora know?”Catra lets the question hang in the air. She rocks back in the chair, crossing her arms. “She does.”--C'yra takes some time off to spend with her daughter.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 169





	1. something precious about this

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!!! Wishing you a splendid and safe holiday!
> 
> I finally did it, I finally got my lazy brain to co-operate with me and post this story. Procrastination is a helluva thing, ain't it.  
> Moving on, season 4 was a total bombshell, am I right? Not much more to say for the moment, except enjoy and please give me your feedback. 
> 
> A very big thanks to MalchiWalker for beta'ing for me. They're such a kind soul, and talented writer. Learned some things from them while they helped with this. Go give them your support and love!

Early daybreak finds Catra working out in the palace’s training room. Most of the castle inhabitants are still asleep save for the royal guards who are devoted in their role, getting up at the ass crack of dawn to carry out their duties. And to be fair to herself, she had been asleep. Right up until her brain decided to conjure up thoughts that existed in the backlogs of her mental folders she’d dubbed ‘shadow files.’ It’s not to say she couldn’t handle the dreams—or better put, _nightmares_ —because she _could_. Therapy had done her good in confronting her demons. But… not every demon was so easily conquered.

Catra grits her teeth in concealed pain, having thrown a poorly aimed punch at the leather bag. She stops for the time being, flexing her fingers and massaging her sore knuckles. Shit, she was getting wrapped up in her thoughts. 

Following her therapist’s instructions, she shuts her eyes, inhales deeply and holds it for five seconds before slowly exhaling. _Do this whenever you feel yourself getting agitated._

Somehow, in whatever psychological way, it actually helps. 

It’s back to pummelling the punching bag with grunts of effort. Punch. Kick. Uppercut. Catra unleashes a series of combos before finishing with a roundhouse kick. 

Catra wipes the sweat from her brow, fiddling with the thin fur. Breathing heavily, she stretches out her aching muscles, twisting her torso from side to side as she makes her way towards the locker room. Undoing her wrappings, Catra tosses them in a bin and turns on the tap, collecting the water in her cupped hands and splashing her face. 

Opening her eyes, she studies her reflection in the mirror, trickles of water rolling down her face and dripping from her chin. Her hair has grown out quite a bit, reaching below her chin. _‘Maybe I’ll cut it again.’_ Not much has changed about her appearance in the last five years. However, her attitude and the way she carried herself had undergone a demolition and rebuilding process of sorts. Confronting years of resentment and anger and hurt had granted her the peace she needed to move forward with her life and the resulting changes were met with a somewhat wary and good reception. 

Grabbing a towel, she dries her face, throwing it in a laundry basket as she makes her exit. 

Being up so early meant hardly any foot traffic and Catra couldn’t be more pleased. She’s not exactly a morning person and needs her space to fully wake up before engaging in conversation unless she’d be sniping at others. 

She makes it to the castle kitchen uninterrupted, stepping through the archway to the unsurprising sight of Bow already awake, standing by the stove. 

“Don’t you ever sleep?” Catra asks a bright eyed Bow.

The kettle whistles and flicks the stove off, removing the hot instrument—with a mitten of course—and tips it so the boiled water comes gurgling out as it fills his mug. The heady scent of fresh coffee floats in the air. Catra sniffs the air. Vanilla. “I’m always the first to rise. Glimmer used to be the nightmare of the trio to wake, and Adora... she’s earned the right."

Catra chuckles softly. “Can’t argue there.” 

Once upon a time, Adora possessed this belief that she alone bore responsibility for everything and that was a result of their stringent upbringing. Children were easily malleable in their formative years, clinging to the words and beliefs of their guardians. Shadow Weaver knew this and exploited it to her advantage; manipulating Adora to fit her narrative and creating an almost perfect soldier. Add She-Ra into the equation and the fate of the world practically resting on her shoulders while others looked to her for salvation, and you get a maladjusted girl with a nauseating saviour complex.

Thankfully, things had toned down over the years. Sure, Adora’s still the neurotic mess Catra knew her to be, but now, she takes it slow; politely asking not to be disturbed as she spends time to be alone and just exist. 

Catra balances on her tiptoes, reaching inside the cupboard for a bowl, and snags a bag of oats in the process. Thankfully, since Bow has already boiled the water, all she needs to do is add the steaming liquid to the dry grains and whatever flavourings of her choosing. She opts for cinnamon and a spoonful of honey.

“You’re up earlier than usual.” Bow says, pulling out a chair and seating himself at the modest table, nursing the warm cup in his palms. He’s wearing heart print pajama bottoms and a cropped vest with a smiling heart in the centre. “Something wrong?” 

“Couldn’t sleep any longer,” is the response given. Catra sits opposite Bow, shoving a spoonful of porridge in her mouth. 

“Oh, okay. How are things in the Fright Zone?”

Swallowing, she answers, “Scorpia sent a message a week ago after that freak storm that hit Lancaster. A lot of people lost their homes and livelihoods, so they found their way towards the Fright Zone, seeking sanctuary. Scorpia, being Scorpia, accepted them, but realized it was more than she could handle and started to panic.” Catra pauses for a moment, smacking her teeth to dislodge a clump of oats sticking to an incisor. “I drew up some plans and gave them to Entrapta to work so adequate accommodations would be provided. Most of them brought their kids too, so the academy also got a boatload of new students.”

Bow sips his coffee and nods. He does remember that weird storm, appearing out of the blue and bringing lightning storms and tornadoes.

Almost two years after the war, Scorpia had returned to the Fright Zone to rightfully claim the land that belonged to her people. Word circulated around the place of the Black Garnet finally being in the possession of its proper owner and soon Scorpia found others just like her emerging from their hiding places and wandering into the Fright Zone. There wasn’t much of her race left, only a handful, but Scorpia had felt such a relief in knowing some of her people had survived.

Remodeling the Fright Zone into a more people-friendly place was a grueling task. The land as it had been was no place to start a community. The smog that permeated the land needed to be purified, and the environment purged of the rusted heaps of junk strewn around the former military base. Luckily, Entrapta in her ingenuity was there to assist with cleanup as well as creating safe homes for those displaced by the war. 

Little by little, people trickled in. Those who came were given lodging and jobs to sustain themselves. Others opened shops to barter with travellers passing through their gradually growing community. 

That was around the same time Catra resurfaced. Picture her surprise and horror when Scorpia became the first person to reach out to her. She pled with Catra over the communication pad, asking for her assistance in fixing their old home of sorts. Catra, a mess of remorse and shame at the time, wasn’t sure how to respond. In the period of her rapidly deteriorating mental health, Catra had been unnecessarily cruel towards the kindhearted woman, hurtling scathing retorts at her when all Scorpia wanted was to be her friend in her darkest hour. 

Guilt consumed her very being and it’s because of that guilt Catra found herself agreeing to aid her, albeit unsurely. Scorpia would be her first step in mending the bridges she’d burned and reintegrating into society as a healthier and more emotionally sound person.

Her, Scorpia and Entrapta—another person she’d wronged—had gathered in their old lounging area, going over ideas for renovations. In the midst of the chatter, Catra had dropped comment in the idea pool about refurbishing the Horde headquarters into a type of learning centre. 

Back in Halfmoon, young Magicats were given the opportunity to learn in a friendly setting with tutors who looked out for their best interests. Catra thought it intriguing. A completely different environment from what she had been taught in. The Horde tutors didn’t care for your needs or wants, progress and results is all that mattered.

It was said in a lighthearted manner, not to be taken seriously. Running a school was no small order and the person in charge needed good organization skills as well as knowledge in proper childhood development. Scorpia obviously wasn’t thinking that far ahead, excitedly latching onto the idea of nurturing younger generations to be Etheria’s future. Oh, bother, she and her visionary thinking. 

And for whatever reason, Scorpia went ahead and slapped Catra’s name on the academy’s plaque as a co-founder of Solace Academy. 

Luckily, Scorpia didn’t need her to do much of anything, her name being there was out of respect since the proposal was hers.

“You guys are doing great things for those less fortunate.” Bow grins, tracing the rim of his cup. “You’re giving those kids a future and parents hope that their children will be fine when they’re gone."

“Yeah, well…” Catra shrugs. 

Bow lets her be, draining the rest of his morning brew.

Catra finishes her breakfast, already in the motion to stand when Bow gets up before her and takes her bowl, saying “allow me.”

While Bow does the dishes, she waits, chin propped up on her hand. The shrill sound of the water echoes in the silence. Catra drowsily blinks as she idly creates spirals on the wooden surface. Those extra hours of lost sleep were creeping up on her.

“How much longer are you going to be in Brightmoon?”

Catra stops on a half circle. She glances at Bow through the corner of her eyes. “Until the end of next month.” One month. That’s the time she has left in Brightmoon. The time she has left with Adora. Her ears wilt slightly. She’d been in Brightmoon for the past month and a half now, establishing a new treaty between the kingdoms and once her mother arrives, she’ll be attending another talk.

“Wow, time sure does fly.” Bow whistles, drying the bowl, and then wiping the counter before toweling his hands. “Does Adora know?”

Catra lets the question hang in the air. She rocks back in the chair, crossing her arms. “She does.”

“How’d she take it?”

“As well as you’d think.” 

“She got all pouty, huh?”

Sighing, “Yup, but you know, she _understands._ ” 

Catra can’t forget the way her expression dimmed when she mentioned her returning to Halfmoon, but being Adora, she _always_ understands. 

“Sounding a little resentful there.” Rubbing his head, Bow cautiously asks, “do… you _not_ want her to be supportive?”

It’s obviously way too early in the morning for this because a vein starts to throb in her temple. “It’s not that. I love that she’s so supportive. It’s just… I wish—”

“—she’d throw a bigger tantrum?” Bow finishes, returning to his seat. Catra runs a hand through her hair, nodding faintly. “Sad to say, Adora’s not going to do that, it’s not in her character. I mean, she _has_ become slightly more selfish when it comes to her needs, but she’s not going to put them above what she considers is important to you.”

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder.” Catra grumbles.

Bow taps his fingers together, mouth folded. Catra’s his friend and seeing her so miserable doesn’t rest well with him. Shy to admit it to outside parties, Catra is so in love with Adora that she purrs at the sight of her alone. Bow would know, walking in on them just as Adora placed a kiss on her cheek. 

If there was ever a time to test the castle’s acoustics, it would’ve been then. 

“Wellll…” he draws out, and he does that whenever he’s going to drop a real bomb shell of a suggestion. “Have you considered asking Adora to… go to Halfmoon with you? We’re living in a time of peace and there aren’t any threats to the universe that requires She-Ra to step in.”

Catra’s response comes immediately. “Absolutely not. This is Adora we’re talking about. Adora, who on occasion, I have to work through our complicated history with whenever the next big mood hits. Asking her might end up being a conflict of emotions.” Catra sighs. “Furthermore, the most Adora’s ever done is visit Halfmoon, she’s never stayed for more than a day or two. It’d be a really big change for her.” 

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” Bow mutters. “Unless...” Gradually his face lights up as a broad smile strains his cheek, but as fast it comes, it vanishes. “Ah, nevermind.” 

“What, what is it?”

His smile returns, less brilliant as he gets up. Like someone caught reminiscing about the good times. “Just that you could move here if you wanted to. You’ve pretty much assimilated to the live style here. It’d be nice having you here, and Adora would probably explode from happiness.”

“Oh.” Catra feels her cheeks warm as she imagines Adora with her dorky smile and sparkling eyes.

Catra hears him fiddling around near the sink. When done, a white ceramic cup filled with a light brown liquid is slipped in front of her. 

“Chamomile, great for relaxing.” Bow states, lips stretching wide. “The blend we get from Plumeria is top notch and caffeine free.”

Catra eyes the steaming drink. She vaguely remembers stating her preference for tea over coffee, but that was a while back and she didn’t think anyone had paid attention. Then again, this is _Bow_. He takes every detail into consideration, even the most insignificant. A corner of her mouth lifts as Catra accepts the offering. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Bow plucks a frying pan from the hanging rack. “So, how many sausages are we having today?”

“Make it four?"

As he gets to it, Catra contemplatively sips her tea, the same tea she could drink each morning.

If she lived in Brightmoon.

***

Well fed thanks to Bow, Catra makes a stop by the guest room loaned to her to use the shower and slip on fresh clothes. She’s on her way out when she catches sight of the trackerpad on her dresser. 

Scorpia’s supposed to be coming tomorrow for some training session between her and Adora.

_‘Wouldn’t hurt to check up on her.’_ Catra

She waits patiently as the dots flit across the screen, soon disappearing as her call is answered. 

“Scorpia.”

_“Hello? H-Hello? Catra? Is this thing busted? Can’t be, Entrapta just fixed it the other day.”_

Scorpia doesn’t seem to hear her, the image bouncing as her pincers repeatedly tap her screen. Great, it’s probably muted on her side. Catra sighs. She holds the pad at a distance, waving to get Scorpia’s attention. She mouths “microphone,” and tries again. “Can you hear me now?”

_“Loud and clear! Hi, Catra!”_ Scorpia smiles widely.

“Hey, Scorp, how’s it going?”

_“Oh, things are great! The citizens are content, the kids love their classes and Entrap-”_ A loud explosion rocks the room and a plume of dust billows in the background. _“Entrapta just blew a hole in the wall with the confetti cannon, so yeah! Things are going great!”_

Catra sits on the footstool near the bottom of her bed, crossing her legs. “Why did you even want that to begin with?” 

_“It’s great for celebrations! I mean, it shoots out confetti and who doesn’t like confetti?”_

Catra, that’s who. “Whatever you say, Scorpia.”

_“I’m glad you called though. Some of the junior kids keep asking for you, wondering when you’re visiting again.”_ Scorpia’s expression is hopeful as she speaks. _“They really miss you.”_

In the initial stages, Catra had floated around the academy just to see how Scorpia was handling being the temporary caretaker to some three dozen kids. Big mistake, because the kids instantly took to her, swarming her and bombarding her with questions. Why are your eyes like that? Why are your ears so big (that one kinda hurt)? Is everywhere covered in fur? 

She literally had to scale up some support beams to get away.

“I’m not sure. I’ve been really busy lately. But, I’ll try my best to drop in when I get the chance.”

On the other end, Scorpia mulls over her words. _“Okay, Wildcat. When you get the time. I need to pack my things for tomorrow, so we can talk later.”_

“What time will you reach Brightmoon?”

_“Maybe around 10? All depends on how fast I finish my duties here.”_

“Alright. We’ll catch up later.”

_“Bye, Catra.”_

Catra stares at the black screen. Scorpia always asks her the same question whenever they talk and Catra always gives her the same answer in the end. 

While she appreciated the kids and their strange infatuation with her, stepping foot in the former Horde buildings for too long left her unsettled and anxious. Buried emotions threatening to surface.

Rolling her shoulders, Catra stands and stores the communication pad. That's a matter for another day. Not today, though. _Definitely_ not today.

Hand on the knob, she squeezes her eyes tightly before opening them and leaving the room. 

She ventures through the corridor to the quarters she shares with Adora, entering to find her seated on the bed’s edge in a tank top and shorts. 

"Hey, Adora." She leans her head on the door frame, short locks tickling her nose. "Wondered when you'd rise from the dead."

Adora yawns, stretching and groaning. "Time is it?"

"Bit after eight."

"Felt like I was sleeping for ages."

“You were out like a light last night when you came in. Diplomatic relations with Torden and Kioo not going well?" 

"In a way. The nobles are like toddlers who can’t understand practical decisions." Adora gripes as she falls onto the mattress. "Princess Temptasia and Sapphire are both stubborn and petty and the only reason I'm back here instead of there is because a fight broke out, destroying the whole west wing where the guest rooms were."

As a princess without a kingdom, She-Ra was a neutral third party in diplomatic settings, meaning she held the role of mediator while negotiations were underway.

Catra chuckles. "Sounds exciting." 

"I'm expected back this afternoon to help stop the foolishness before it escalates any further." Adora heaves a bone tired sigh. "Would you believe me if I told you they’re exes?" 

Eyebrows disappearing in her hairline, Catra parrots, "exes?" She shuts the door, not wanting any of their conversation to leak out into the hallway. "So what, this whole meeting is just one big relationship squabble?"

"Yeah, basically."

Catra howls with mirth, that squeaky pitch scrubbing away the tiredness in her bones. It’s so infectious that Adora joins in.

"And you know this how?" 

Adora folds a wrinkle in the sheet. "Palace servants talk."

Catra folds her arms, and crosses her ankles as she props her back against the wall. "Listening to gossip, are we?”

"Don’t judge me. One minute I'm standing in a corridor on my lonesome, then the next these two maids approach me and start talking about their relationship." 

"You could've excused yourself." Catra smiles knowingly. "There’s no shame in saying you wanted to hear the juicy details."

“Maybe.” Adora says, returning the smile. 

Blue and gold eyes rove over Adora’s freshly awoken form. Faint dark circles are present underneath her eyes and her hair’s an unkempt mess, but that silent beauty of hers still shines through, haloed by streams of light from the early morning. 

This is what she could experience if Adora lived in Halfmoon with her.

_‘Or, if I moved here. Would she want that?’_

Catra strolls towards the bed, dropping her weight down beside Adora. She threads her fingers through the tousled sea of curling flaxen and Adora hums at the kind touch. Catra uses this chance to count the tiny scars that litter her face. There’s one slicing her right brow, another high on her cheek, and one more running across the bridge of her nose. 

“What time is your mother supposed to arrive?” Catra’s light petting is making it increasingly difficult for her already bedraggled self to stay awake. 

“In the next hour, give or take. Swift Wind offered, well, more like _begged_ to go pick her up.”

“How did he even know about her coming?”

“Going by his story, he was passing by when he overheard my conversation with Bow discussing it the other day.”

“He eavesdropped, didn’t he.”

“Would he be Swift Wind if he didn’t?” Catra lays on the bed facing Adora, their faces inches apart. 

"You look fancy in your clothes."

"Fancy?" Her top is literally two pieces of pristine white linen crisscrossing, and hooking around her neck to hold her bust in place. Her bottoms are similar to the pair she once wore, but instead of the dusty red they're beige with her signature rips. She's wearing a couple pieces of jewelry her mothers had gifted her. A gold arm cuff, a gold choker, a gold band for her tail… Magicats _really_ loved gold. "I tidied up a bit, but that’s it. Might be the accessories."

"Even without them you'd still look nice."

"Obviously." Catra says smugly before getting up. Adora whines at the loss of contact. "Oh, quit pouting. Time to get up."

"Can't I have another thirty minutes?" Adora flails her limbs like a pouting child. 

"Nope." Catra takes hold of her wrists, tugging her upright. "You've gotten lazy over the years, babe."

"I'm allowed to be." Adora falls forward into Catra's exposed stomach, subtly rubbing her cheek on the silky fur. 

The open display of affection causes a temporary pause in her actions. It’s adorable, really. Sleepy Adora usually was. It just wasn’t going to save her this time, unfortunately. "Come on. Work with me here."

"...Fine."

Adora raises her butt off the bed and Catra unknowingly falls for her trap. In the blink of an eye, her entire world spins and suddenly she's staring at the ceiling. "Adora!"

"Shhh..." Adora splays her entire body atop Catra's, pinning her arms beside her head as she noses the junction of Catra's neck and shoulder. "Sleepy time."

"Adora, come on! Get off, you're heavy!" 

"S'all muscle." Adora slurs, vision blurring as her eyes slip shut. 

"Muscle my ass!" Catra tries twisting her body, but to no avail. Soon, she hears quiet snoring. "Adora?" 

Nothing. 

"Adora? _Adora!_ "

***

After finally forcing Adora's uncooperative rump out of bed, the two set out for the entrance to Brightmoon where they'd wait for Catra's mother and Swift Wind.

"So, are you excited?" Adora asks solely for the sake of conversation as they walk. 

"Excited?" Catra regards her momentarily, curls bouncing. "About what?"

"Seeing C'yra." 

"I… Of course, I am." The last time she'd seen her mother was three months ago, and that was in the midst of civil unrest in a village neighbouring one of Halfmoon’s territories. "Back home, we don’t often get to see much of each other. Mom’s either off doing queen things or I’m busy writing up new treaties.” 

Adora catches the dejection in her voice. "Hey, she’s going to be thrilled to see you.”

"Think so?”

“I know so.”

Catra didn't much doubt that her mother missed her, but having Adora reassure her helped in lifting her spirit. She shoots her a fond smile. “Thanks, Adora.”

Adora flushes. Catra’s happiness means a lot to her. Being able to witness those normally unrevealing eyes light up with that dazzling smile sends her heart skipping. Adora settles for a nod in response, not trusting her voice.

A comfortable silence blankets them. 

Catra glances sidelong at her companion.

Adora's changed up her style. Switching out her standard Horde issued shirt for a grey top that clung to her the same way and a pair of black pants tucked into new military boots. As for her jacket, it’s kept in her closet. She doesn’t really wear it anymore, so it’s not missed when Catra sneaks it out to hold it close, sometimes falling asleep with it. 

She sports a new hairdo as well. The sides of her head are shaven, completely foregoing her trademark poof as strands escape her ponytail to hang in her face.

Catra remembers the day of the haircut well. Her go-to response had been a very audible whisper of ‘what the _fuck_ ' when she saw the First Ones language etched into the side of her head. 

Adora said it read 'heart,' studying the apparent birthmark curiously. 

Catra drops her attention to her broad shoulders, sliding down to the bulging muscles of her biceps. On the arm nearest to Catra, there are four claw marks. A gift Adora could never forget. 

Back then, they carried a lot of negative feelings for both parties. These days, they're able to speak freely about it. Adora often says they match her stripes. 

Catra makes a noise in her throat. "Have you been working out lately?"

"Why do you ask?" Catra doesn't miss the poorly contained pride that flashes across her face. 

"Curious, I guess. You look bigger these days." Not that it's a bad thing. Catra loved being held by those powerful arms. She felt safe and protected whenever they embraced. 

"Is that your way of telling me I look good?”

“Don’t get an even bigger head.”

Adora grins. “Yeah, I have been. Huntara's training is harsh, but you can’t deny the results. Say, why don't you join us sometime?"

"Yeah, and then I'll just lay in bed while my body tries to remember what moving is." 

Rounding a corner, they run into the aforementioned brawler with her burly arms weighed down with training equipment. 

It’s practically second nature what happens next.

"Huntara!"

"Blondie.” Huntara greets as Adora practically skips her way over. “Kitty.” 

Catra grunts her acknowledgement, too busy looking at Adora, brows knitting. 

"Is that stuff for tomorrow?" She asks, rocking on her heels as she fidgets. From this perspective, Catra realizes how much of a struggle it is for Adora to contain herself. She's giving Huntara that thing called 'personal space,' which—from what Catra had heard from Bow—Adora had completely disregarded when she first met the impressive woman. 

_‘She’s eighteen all over again.’_

Okay, Catra could admit she saw the appeal. With a body like that Huntara probably got accustomed to the fawning. She was everything that Adora admired wrapped up in one. Thankfully for Catra, she's immune to such charms. 

Plus, she prefers blondes. Blondes who were painfully oblivious at times.

Times like now. 

"That's right." Huntara jostles the biggest bag on her shoulder. "You'll be there, I'm assuming."

"Negotiations are still ongoing, but things should be over by day’s end." 

Huntara nods. "Scorpia should be here later tomorrow afternoon. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the company." Catra doesn’t miss the twinkle in her eyes. What inhumane plans did this woman have in store for Adora and her high-spirited friend? "See ya around, Blondie. Kitty." 

Huntara slips by them, and Adora stares after her until she’s out of sight. Adora turns to Catra, bedazzled smile falling at the flat look Catra gives her. 

"I, uh, I did the thing again, didn't I?"

"Uh-huh."

"Catra, don’t get mad." But Catra's already on the move and rounding a corner. "Catra!"

***

Gusty winds blow as the couple move onto the platform connected to the Moonstone. The strong gales cause the trees of the Whispering Woods to dance, filling the air with the rustling of leaves. Down below, the water crashes onto the concrete, white froth settling on the surface before dissipating. 

Getting a haircut has been one of the best decisions Adora’s ever made in her life. The cool air feels marvelous as it passes over her shaven head. It feels even better running across her body as the sun rays caress her body with a silken touch. 

Meanwhile, Catra precariously perches on the edge of the walkway, unfazed by the plunge below. It's what, eighty feet tops? Heights never scared her. She'd scaled the highest point in the Fright Zone and still wanted to go higher as a teen. 

"Hey.” An ear swivels around. “I'm really sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to disrespect you like that." 

Catra sighs. "Adora, relax. I know you meant no harm. I should be used to it by now, anyways." 

“You shouldn’t have to be.” Adora stalks to where Catra is, lowering herself onto the platform. She lifts an arm around her shoulders, not yet making contact. If Catra didn't want to be touched, she'd make it known front and centre. Fortunately, she doesn't run away from the promise of physical contact. Not met with any resistance, Adora urges Catra into her so she’s leaning against her body. 

"Catra, you mean the world to me.” The slight admission draws out a faint rumble. “You know that, right?”

“I guess.” 

"I'm serious, Catra. I admit there are times when I’m not aware of how my actions affect others because of well, you know, my socially stunted upbringing. That’s not an excuse, obviously, so feel free to hit me whenever I’m being painfully ignorant.”

“I’m not gonna hit you, dummy.” Catra pinches her thigh, smirking at the resulting yelp. “I guess I was upset because it reminded me how easily you could’ve found someone else to be with. You’re a great person after all. Plus, you’re She-Ra. I bet girls throw themselves at you.”

“Hold up, you think _I’m_ the impressive one here?” Adora’s head snaps towards her girlfriend so quickly she nearly pulls a muscle. “Catra, you have absolutely no idea how _great_ you are. Seriously, the things you’ve done are beyond impressive. You single-handedly took down two of the most terrifying figures we knew as kids. That’s, like, legendary in my book.” 

She’s gushing—something Catra isn’t much for because it makes her all sappy and shy—but she needs to let Catra know how she sees her. She had been so blind in the years prior, inadvertently belittling Catra’s capabilities under the misguided notion that she needed her protection. Catra never needed Adora to protect her. If anything, it was Adora herself who received the most protection. Catra covering for her, Catra bearing the brunt of the punishments, Catra facing the backlash on her own after she left. Always Catra. 

_‘Okay, I was a shitty friend.’_ “Anyway, those girls who wanted my attention weren’t my type.”

“Oh, you have a type?”

“Yup. She has a resolve that’s attentive and patient. She also has a strong sense of self and isn’t afraid to go after what she wants in life. Plus she has these really cute furry ears and a tail that betrays her emotions even though she tries to act cool.” Adora adds on the last bit when Catra’s tail drapes itself across her lap, the tip swishing happily.

“You better keep her close.” 

“I’d be a fool to let her go again.” Adora stares directly into her eyes, her own steely blue unwavering. 

Quick question, was control even an option? 

Catra had felt her resolve to keep it together crumbling the moment Adora called her ‘legendary.’ Hearing _those_ words uttered with such admiration was the icing on the cake. She takes Adora’s jaw between her fingers and guides her face towards hers as Catra presses their lips together. It’s soft and slow and full of so much love that Adora swears her heart might burst. 

Catra pulls away first. “Smooth talker.”

“I try.” 

Catra pecks her on each cheek before pressing her face into her chest. Adora’s entire body radiates warmth paralleled by that of the sun, filling Catra with fluffy glee as her vocal cords start to vibrate. 

Today’s weather is kind, gracing them with skies of calming blue and endless amounts of sunshine. It's peaceful, the soothing sound of leaves rustling as the strong winds blow like a lullaby to Catra. Adora's low humming isn't half bad, an old First One's hymn she'd taught herself. 

Catra closes her eyes, allowing herself to be absorbed in her thoughts. 

Her parents rush to the forefront of her mind, specifically C’yra. As a child who had endured endless horrors at the hands of her supposed guardian, C'yra was a severely needed improvement.

Her mother. C'yra of D'riluth II. Queen of Half Moon. 

And her: Catra of D'riluth III. Princess of Half Moon. 

The last part had been a lot to process. And, by a lot, she meant existential crisis inducing.

Ever the pragmatic thinker, finding shelter had been high on her list of priorities during her self-proclaimed exile. Fortunately, she’d come across a large hollow in a mountainside. Positioned high up on a rocky ledge, its ovoid shape was big enough to not feel claustrophobic, but she could’ve gone without the damp smell. Well, whatever: survivors couldn’t be finicky.

That night the skies exploded and the winds roared like wild beasts, bolts of lightning illuminating the valley as the torrential downpour flooded the lands. 

Yes, Catra had accounted for all the possibilities of nature testing her resolve.

All factors except falling into an underground cavern and discovering the lost kingdom of Halfmoon, which the Magicats inhabited. A lost race of highly skilled warriors. A race _she_ was a part of. 

Being reunited with her real parents sure as hell never crossed her mind, either. 

Every event after the storm had felt like consecutive blows to the gut.

As if matters weren’t ridiculously unbelievable enough—also very uncomfortable with the hugging and crying—her parents were royalty. The Queens of Halfmoon, to be exact, making her a _princess_. 

Catra rebelled against the idea without batting an eye. There was absolutely no way she could be the sole thing she was taught to hate from a young age. 

Her? A princess? Impossible. She refused to accept it. 

The fact that C'yra and Khepri had said something so inconceivable caused flames of mistrust to lick at her heart. As a result, she put up her defenses and let her skepticism guide her actions.

Nevertheless, they were understanding towards her and overbearing with their kindness because that's what parents are supposed to do apparently. 

The warning sirens in her head blared like there was no tomorrow. She had lived a long enough life to understand that kindness didn't come without sacrifice. 

Besides their immeasurable hospitality, an important detail she’d overlooked upon barging into Halfmoon presented itself. Just _how_ were they so sure she was their daughter. Evidently, heterochromia was a very rare trait among Magicats and she had been the most recent kitten born with it in the last decade. 

As to how she ended up an orphan in the Horde… It went like this. 

The Horde had laid siege to Halfmoon, forcing them to retreat underground. The winding labyrinths had aided in their escape to the ruins beneath the kingdom. Spread throughout the maze, the Horde had encountered immense difficulty in tracking them, eventually being forced to fall back. 

However, though they'd escaped with minimal casualties, they'd suffered a great loss. In the mess of fleeing, a young Catra had gotten lost among the bustling bodies, never to be seen again. C'yra had suffered many sleepless nights after that while Khepri tried to be her rock. She’d searched ceaselessly for her after establishing an army a fraction the size of her original guard, sending out countless scouting parties, only for them to come back with dejected looks and regretful words. Each time they returned, they grew to fear the worse.

That Catra was dead. 

Given the circumstances, she might as well have been. After the smoke had cleared and the dust had settled, Catra had concluded she'd played her role in the war. She did what she had to ensure the survival of the planet. There was nothing else to do; she served no purpose. Merely going through the motions because of some primitive instinct to survive. 

She had nothing.

Friends? What were those? Her obsessive and self destructive tendencies had ruined whatever bonds she had created, pushing away anyone who’d bothered to offer her an ounce of kindness. _Everyone_ who’d offered her a lifeline out of the suffocating abyss.

She’d scoffed bitterly. Even Hordak flipped on her. At least she made it out alive: thrashing his cyborg ass once he’d found out the truth about Entrapta and sought to eliminate her. 

_"Why not stay here, then? Get to know us, and your people."_ C'yra had suggested, supported by her other mother. 

A smart person with nowhere to go would accept the offer and Catra always knew she was smarter than people gave her credit for. (In some cases, that is.) Studying the bigger picture, that was her best option. Plus, it was better than wandering the wilderness aimlessly and possibly dying along the way, Catra thought; certain that if death presented itself before her, she wouldn't even _try_ fighting back. 

After getting settled, Catra spent most of her time locked away in her chambers in Halfmoon, watching as days... _months_ passed. Her parents would frequently drop by to bring her daily necessities, like food and fresh clothing. They never forced her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with, which ended up being a long list. 

Ironic how people she’d just met were able to read her right off the bat. They respected _her_ wishes. Not a lot of people did that.

Another two months passed, and Catra finally stepped out of the security of her room to explore the kingdom. Surprisingly, the library was her first stop on her tour, where Khepri eagerly welcomed her, educating her about her profession as an archeologist and architect. It felt... odd having an authoritarian figure be so joyous in her presence, and Catra found some solace in that. Khepri greeted her with a smile whenever she came to visit, bringing her a new book each time. 

In hindsight, Catra wasn't a very strong reader, often feeling embarrassed at not being able to finish a paragraph. She expected Khepri to be upset with her, scold her, maybe even raise her hand, but none of the sort happened. Khepri simply patted her on the back, and said, _"That's okay, we all have our strengths and weaknesses."_ Khepri made time for her even though she had a hectic schedule to give her lessons. By her fifth lesson, Catra could read full chapters with little difficulty. 

A solid year and a half flew by before Catra attempted interacting with her other parent. C'yra hadn't shunned her, embracing her with open affection. It wasn't an easy transition to say the least. Compared to how swiftly Catra took to Khepri, it was an internal struggle welcoming C’yra. Perhaps it had something to with the fierce aura C’yra projected and how much it reminded Catra of _her_ , but C’yra had only shown kindness despite her frightening visage. 

In the process of connecting with each other, lots of screaming and crying had been involved (mostly on Catra’s end). Some days, they wouldn't even make eye contact. Those were the days Catra woke up on the verge of a panic attack, having barely escaped the icy tendrils of a familiar, death grip in the winding corridors of her mind. 

Through it all, C'yra remained patient. 

The day eventually came where Catra no longer felt like she needed to pinpoint all the possible escape routes in her mother's presence. C'yra and her carried on honest-to-goodness mother/daughter conversations. About the Horde. About her ascent to power, and about her downward spiral into madness. With each talk, Catra's heart felt lighter.

Then it happened.

It was the beginning of Autumn, the kingdom bathed in the orange hues of the season trickling in through the cracks in the cavern’s ceiling when C'yra brought up the topic of Adora (the blonde had been mentioned offhandedly, but Catra hadn't been ready to speak on that subject) and what she meant to Catra during a mother–daughter sparring session . 

_"What's your relationship with this Adora girl?" C'yra redirects a thrust, and takes a few steps back. "Your whole mood shifted when you mentioned her." C'yra drops her stance, inquisitive amber piercing Catra's core. “You looked uneasy, yet… enamoured.”_

_The well of emotions bubbling forth almost feels like too much on her senses. Catra's relationship with Adora? For her, it's a contradictory fusion of frightened familiarity. Catra wants to say “a friend,” but she highly doubts that term is even feasible. She wants to say her special someone, and she Adora's, but knows she no longer has the right, and she doesn’t even want to think of such an outcome because her heart might not be able to handle it._

_Catra hugs the wooden staff. “We… I-I don’t know. We-we were best friends. Maybe… even closer than that? We were always together growing up, and we always took care of each other. Or were supposed to. We were everything to one another.”_

_The corner of her mouth quirks upward, but it fades instantly._

_“Now, we…” her voice trickles out, void of emotion, “we're_ _nothing_ _."_

_Tears blur her vision as she stares unblinking, twin trails rolling down her face. "I’ve done horrific things, haven’t I.”_

_“You have, yes.” Catra bows her head, hearing the admission stings extra when coming from the mouth of someone else. She feels a finger hook beneath her chin, raising her head. C’yra wipes her tears away._

_“I’ve hurt so many people. How do I even make up for that?” Catra roughly threads her fingers through her cut locks._

_“It’s up to you how you plan to earn your forgiveness. Just know it has to be from the heart.” C’yra dips to kiss the crown of her head. “Once you figure that out, let the next time you cry be only tears of happiness to reflect how far you’ve come.”_

Catra wakes from the memory when Adora's humming stops. Ever grateful for her sensitive hearing, Catra picks up on the sound of beating wings, and snapping branches. 

Like a torpedo, a blur bursts through the treetops, soaring high in the sky. Adora and Catra shield their eyes as the blob hovers before the sun, big wings snapping outwards in an obnoxious statement before they’re tucked in and the figure falls into a nosedive. 

One loop-de-loop, two loop-de-loops, and they already know who it is.

Swift Wind touches down in a pose, tossing his mane to the side, and grins. “Hi, guys!”

“Not a bad flight, Swift Wind, and we even got here with twenty minutes to spare." C'yra says, announcing her arrival, the rich contralto tone of her voice like honey. She dismounts the white stallion, patting his meaty neck. 

"Expect only the best when flying with me, your majesty!" Swift Wind ruffles his wings and puffs out his chest. "You could learn a thing or two from your mom, Catra."

"This coming from a talking horse with delusions of grandeur in liberating the equine forces of Etheria." Catra smirks at his affronted look. 

"I'll have you know I've freed over a dozen of my brothers and sisters in the last couple of days."

"Those the same brothers and sisters the stable hands rounded up two hours later?"

Swift Wind gasps, clutching a wing over his heart. "Et tu, Adora?" He huffs, turning to show his hindquarters. "Well, I believe it's time I take my leave. It's one thing for the snarky cat to laugh at my efforts, but my spiritual bond partner? Oh, the betrayal." 

Swift Wind gets a running start, then leaps into the air as he flies away. "Farewell, Queen C'yra!"

"Is he always so dramatic?" C'yra asks. 

"Kinda."

"Ever since he could use human speech."

The simultaneous answers draw out a laugh. When her eyes land on Catra, her gaze softens. 

Catra feels herself grow shy under the tender stare, responding with a: "Hi, mom."

C'yra, quite literally, does a double take. "'Hi, mom?' Really? That's all I get after not seeing my starlight since that mess in Na'ruun. Are children so cruel these days?"

"Yeah, _starlight_ , why so mean?" Adora looks and sounds irritatingly smug right about now.

"Shut up!" Catra drags her feet across the concrete, grumbling about the cheesy nickname. She's not going to live that down, that’s for sure. Adora's already locked it away in her mind for later use. 

When C'yra opens her arms, there’s only a sliver of hesitation before Catra goes into them. Catra allows her body to sag as she melts into touch. 

"Hello, my love." C'yra presses a kiss to a fuzzy ear, ending their embrace. 

"Hey, mom." Catra steps out of the hold, keeping minimal space between them as she toys with the spot her mother touched. 

In the background, Adora remains quiet as the mother and daughter reunite. She smiles to herself. It might not be apparent to others, but Catra’s love for C’yra runs deep. For example, the way her eyes dilate ever so minutely when looking at C’yra.

Adora shifts focus onto C’yra directly. She’s met the imposing woman in the past, and boy, did she _intimidate_ Adora. C’yra has a refined aura about her that makes you question your self worth simply by peeking at her, fierce and self assured. Catra exudes the same energy whenever she’s engaged in her role at peace talks. 

Appearance wise, she’s beautiful; long, unruly hair reminiscent of Catra’s in her teenage years framing her face and sharp amber eyes ringed black that belie her blithe attitude. If you look closer, you can see a small section of her left eye that’s blue. C’yra’s fur is a notch darker with bands of honey brown looping around her shoulders; a twin set on each thigh. Like most people, she’s taller than Catra. 

_‘C’yra’s wearing fancy clothes, too.’_ Being with Catra meant learning an array of new facts about her race. Their favourite cuisines, their preferred seasons and so on. More interestingly, she learned a lot about their sense of style. Magicats believed in only being seen in the best garments woven from the best fabrics by the best tailors in Halfmoon when meeting with outsiders or during important occasions. They took great pride in their appearance, but not to the point of vanity (though a select bunch did border on that threshold.) Most surprising to Adora was the way Magicats revered cleanliness. _‘Wish Catra knew that as a kid.’_

Of course, C’yra is impeccably dressed. A white skirt that overlaps with slanted pleats at the front, held in place by a belt of gold. Linen bindings cover her chest, and a beaded collar ranging in colours of teal and white and orange rests comfortably around her neck. A serpent shaped cuff curls up her left arm and a pair of bracers adorn her forearms. All gold, of course. And for footwear, a strappy pair of sandals running all the way up to her knees. 

Slung across her body is a decent sized rucksack, beat up and frayed. Probably clothes.

“Do you plan on staying like that the whole day, or are you going to greet me?” 

C’yra’s amused voice cuts in, rousing Adora from her wardrobe check. She zeroes in on the figures ahead. C’yra with a patient smile and Catra hiking an inquisitive brow. 

Adora squeezes her cheeks before advancing towards the pair to give the older woman a proper welcome. “It’s good to see you, C’yra.” 

“Always a pleasure seeing my daughter’s alien girlfriend.” Adora reddens upon hearing the term. She’s long accepted herself as an otherworldly being, the revelation freeing in more ways than she thought possible. ‘Girlfriend’, on the other hand, never fails to bring colour to her cheeks. 

“Is Khepri doing well?”

“She’s doing marvelous.” C’yra says wryly. “We can talk about her later. Let’s talk about how things are going here. We’re scheduled for a meeting tomorrow, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah. I’ll fill you in on the way back.” Catra informs as she takes the lead, guiding them back to the castle.

***

Swift Wind buffers his landing as he arrives in Brightmoon’s courtyard, Adora slipping from his back. She is _so_ exhausted.

Petting him, she offers her thanks by giving him an apple before he flies away. Next on her agenda: A shower and some much needed rest. Adora was able to bring the negotiations between Torden and Kioo to a close on a good note. Temptasia and Sapphire had rekindled their relationship (which had been put on the rocks because of a stupid misunderstanding) and now the two kingdoms were set to resume trade with one another. 

_‘Dealing with children, I swear.’_ She trudges through the castle halls, yawning every five minutes. Adora comes to a halt in front of her room and turns the knob quietly, easing inside. She’s worn out, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to neglect basic etiquette when someone’s asleep. 

Especially when that someone is Catra.

That’s why she’s quick to strip, hop in the shower and hop back out, even though she would’ve loved to stay under the heavenly showers longer. Catra’s sensitive hearing would’ve picked up on the water running.

She peers at the clock hanging on the wall. A quarter past one. Adora lets out a wary groan as she slips under the bed covers and curls up behind Catra, wrapping her arms around her waist. ‘ _Huh_?’ That’s odd. Catra seems wider in the hip area. Was she taller, too? Adora dismisses the thoughts. She’s probably just sleep deprived. Burrowing her face in Catra’s long (?) mane, she whispers a soft ‘goodnight’ and leaves it at that.

“Goodnight to you, too, my dear.”

Back up, back up, back up, _back up_ . That was _not_ Catra’s voice.

Adora’s eyes snap open instantly, propping herself up with lightning speed to lean over the prostrate form she’s currently spooning and meets gleeful gold. 

_“Aaaaahhh!”_

Adora falls out of the bed the same time the door slams open with a cry of her name. Catra, in an oversized shirt, looks a frenzied mess of fluff as she stands in the doorway, panting.

“Catra!” 

“Adora?” She flicks on the light. “Mom?”

Clad in only a thin silk robe, C'yra rolls onto her other side to wave. “Hello.” 

Considerably less worried, Catra places a hand on her chest, tiredly glaring. “What’s going on?” 

“Well, picture me asleep when I hear the door opening. In my naivety, I thought it might’ve been you sneaking in to spend some time with your dear old mom,” Catra rolls her eyes, “but as it turned out, it was Adora and her muscles. That’s a pretty firm grip you’ve got going on there, by the way.” 

“Is that so?” Adora gulps when Catra turns her attention on her. On one hand, it’s good that she doesn’t appear so afraid anymore. On the other hand, it’s worse now that she’s leering devilishly at her. “Something you wanna say to me, Adora?”

Adora flits between Catra and C’yra. “I, uh, I can explain.” Adora pushes up onto her knees, back straight and hands politely folded on her thighs. 

So, she _does_ have a good explanation. She just needs to say she’s tired, her brain's muddled by a thick fog and in her exhaustion, she accidentally entered the wrong room.

Piece of cake, see?

“Um, you see—Well, I-I...” 

_‘Nice, Adora, real nice.’_

“Such verbal etiquette.” Catra's teeth glint in the moonlight as she walks to where Adora kneels and pulls her up by the collar of her shirt. "Let's go, Casanova. We’ll see you in the morning, mom.” Adora shuffles out behind her, following Catra’s instructions to hit the switch and close the door.

"Ta-ta." Alone again, C’yra chuckles softly, her shoulders shaking with amusement. The remaining couple of days should be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's chapter one. Plan to make this a three chapter story, cause by damn I haven't written a multichapter story in years and I'm feeling uber good about this one.
> 
> Drop a comment or leave a kudos, heck why not both. Your support is very much appreciated.  
> See you next chapter!


	2. talk (like real people do)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello there! How you guys been? I know I'm a whole eight days late but that season 5 ending am I right? 
> 
> So, I know it's been a while since I updated and you have my deepest apologies for that. This chapter ended up being longer than I expected and harder to write for me, I wanted to make it as good as possible for you guys and needed it to come out in a way I found pleasing.
> 
> I've also tweaked chapter 1 somewhat to better relate to the scenarios happening in this chapter, so go give it a re-read if you wish.
> 
> Many thanks to MalachiWalker for being my beta, I am forever grateful to them for taking time out of their day to assist me with this story.
> 
> Enjoy!

Adora strokes the underside of her lip, pen tapping on the desk. To a newcomer, she might appear lost in a daydream, when in fact, she's currently running through a mental list of today’s agenda. Starting the morning is a peace talk, those neighbouring kingdoms invited should be soon arriving. Then, there’s her session with Huntara and Scorpia, scheduled to end around noon. By that time, the negotiation should be well wrapped up. 

In truth, she  _ was  _ supposed to be there, but given the time she returned last night, Glimmer ordered her to take the day to recuperate. That’s right. Ordered _.  _ As expected, the command was met with avid resistance. Adora argued that she needed to be there and Glimmer argued that she needed to rest. The back and forth lasted a good while before Glimmer snapped.

_ “Adora, I swear to Etheria, if I so much as catch a peek of that blonde head of yours in that room, I’ll tie you up and ship you off to Mystacor for a month!” _

That shut her up real quick.

Adora scowls at her pen. Glimmer is being so unfair.  _ ‘She could’ve at least let me sit in until Scorpia gets here.’  _

But, alas, any sight of her ‘blonde head’ as Glimmer put it and she’d be on a vacation to Mystacor. 

To avoid such a thing happening, she’s in the library, keeping her peace and educating herself in Magicat vernacular and  _ not  _ roaming the hallways dangerously close to where the meeting is scheduled to be. 

Catra’s here with her, so that makes things decidedly less horrible. And, technically, she didn’t get much say in the matter as Adora quite literally swept her off her feet and whisked her away. She might not be here for too long since she's expected to be there along with C’yra, meaning her time is limited.

_ “You know we use Etherian too, right?” Catra says matter-of-factly, reclining in a cushioned chair while Adora rummages the shelves in the bedroom. “Don’t see why you’d go through the headache of learning hieroglyphs.” _

_ Adora collects a stack of parchment, placing them in her satchel. “Because if I don’t distract myself, I’m going to crash that meeting and then it’ll be bye-bye Adora for the next month. I like relaxing, but I’d rather do it on my own terms.” She searches for something to write with, dipping to the middle shelf where she finds a pen and a couple pencils. "Also, you're like ten times hotter when you're focused." _

_ Catra huffs a laugh, huskily saying, "And they say flattery will get you nowhere."  _

Catra erases something from her journal, penciling in a phrase Adora can’t quite make out. They’re notes she’s collected during her travels to the various kingdoms. Statistics, history, problem areas and so on. Her eyes flick up to Adora, lips curving in a whimsical smirk.

Crap, caught in the act. Scowling, Adora refocuses on the scroll before her.

Last night’s events are still vivid in her mind. How she had gotten the two rooms mixed up is beyond her. Was she that tired she’d lost all cognitive functions to navigate a corridor she walked through everyday since she lived in Bright Moon?

Adora mentally berates herself. Leave it to her to embarrass herself in front of her girlfriend  _ and  _ her mother. 

Said girlfriend's obnoxious stare currently lingers on her; the feeling like spindly spider legs crawling across her skin. 

“Will you give it a rest?” 

“I have no idea what you mean.” Catra purrs, stroking the neatly woven braid of a grey tuft. The rest of her hair is secured in a loose ponytail. She’s taken extra good care of herself this morning, cleaning up to look presentable.

Time idles by undisturbed until Catra pipes up. “So, you like girls with long hair? Those flowing tresses dancing in the wind tickle your fancy? It might take a while, but I can grow out mine if that’ll keep you from sleeping with my mom.” 

“ _ Catra _ !” 

Squeaky laughter robs the library of its silence, cheekily coloured lips peeled back.

This is payback for that ‘starlight’ comment yesterday. Adora’s positive.

Adora buckles down, sends Catra a halfhearted glare then firmly glues her eyes to the text. 

The scroll is a gift from Khepri, just one of many from a thick binder stack, bursting with an overflowing amount of notes. A series of notations scribed in hieroglyphs; the Magicats’ way of communication back in the olden days, and up until the present. Each hieroglyph carried its own translation, impressive to look at, but painstakingly difficult to decipher for a person not of the native tongue.

First Ones language was so much easier to understand, though Adora attributes that innate ability to her being a First One herself. That’s basically the main reason they’re here. For Adora’s lessons in the Magicat tongue (her girlfriend being of a different race, it felt like the respectful thing to do in educating herself about her culture) which Catra was  _ supposed  _ to be helping her with, but she’s clearly too absorbed in her own amusement to be of any assistance. 

“Adora~”

Adora decidedly ignores the siren’s call, placing complete focus on the convoluted images. This… man with… a stick? That was a stick, right? Spear, maybe?

“Adora.” Catra tries again. “Aw, don’t be like that.” 

Oh, but Adora will be like that. Did she laugh at C’yra’s term of endearment for Catra? A snicker. Was Catra well within her rights to make fun of Adora? Totally. Was Adora being petty? No comment.

A bump on the table indicates movement belonging to Catra as she shifts. Soon, slender fingers dance across the gap between them, playing with her pinky and index of her idle hand respectively.

She hears her name called once more, “Adora...” similar to a needy chirp and she’s compelled by whatever malign force to offer up her undivided attention. A single glimpse is enough to blow holes in her resolve. 

Catra… Catra’s a pitiful sight to behold. With her drooped ears, and big watery eyes that could be classed as a weapon of mass destruction, she renders Adora defenseless. Is she mewling? Oh heavens, she’s mewling. Anything but the mewling. 

She’s a spectator in her own mind strapped in the front row with steel chains as the forcefield she put up against Catra’s wiles is demolished. 

There was this _thing_ about Catra. Adora noticed it from as far back as their time in the Horde; the only difference now is that she has a name for it and understands what the tight ball in her stomach signifies. Sensuality. Catra radiated so much of the stuff that she could bottle and sell it. Be it a dashing suit or a beguiling dress, she serves looks whenever she deigns to dress up. She’s keenly aware of it, too, often demonstrating natural indifference while interacting with others who were quite visibly flustered in her presence.

There was also this other thing about Catra. She was as adorable as she was fetching. Whether it be intentional like this moment, or unintentional such as her taking a nap in the sunlight on her back and her ridiculously soft tummy upturned. Adorable Catra made you experience a whole different kind of emotion. You just wanted to swaddle her in your arms while you cherished and protected her from the bad things in the world. 

That’s exactly how Adora feels. Like, there’s this darling creature pleading for her attention, for her love. 

Sigh. If this is her fate, so be it. 

“Mm, works every time.” A rumble vibrates in her chest and up her throat as trimmed nails scrape that spot she likes so much. 

“I’m going to have Glimmer outlaw that trick of yours.”

“Your will is just weak.” Glacier blue follow Catra as she gets up. She paints an impressive image in the white and gold. She dons a white top tucked into a pristine white skirt, the sleeves cut off below her shoulders. Around her waist is a red sash with a strip of the fabric dangling between her legs. Gold bracers adorn her forearms, a ruby in the centre of both. She’s even chosen to wear sandals. Rounding the low table, Catra plops down beside Adora, shoulders bumping. Taking half the scroll for herself, she points to the miniature image that had left Adora baffled for longer than she’d like. “Okay, let's get a move on before I have to go. I'm surprised you haven't popped a blood vessel yet.”

“Shut up.”

It’s difficult to tell how much time passes as Adora adheres to Catra’s tutelage. Pest factor aside, she’s a great teacher. 

In hindsight, Adora’s not that good, but she’s also not that bad, and her efforts have shown she's progressing. With the tip of her tongue cutely sticking out, ink stained fingers dutifully jot down notes in her small book. Always so dedicated to her work. Stopping, she sweeps a loose curl behind her ear, but the stubborn thing won’t stay in place, and Adora puts it up again, blue ink smudging her cheek. Fed up, she undoes her ponytail, clips back the annoying strands, and nods to herself, finally satisfied. 

In her notebook, whether aware or simply unbothered, she leaves a trail of inked handprints on the previously white sheets of paper. 

Catra regrets not bringing her sketchpad. Covered in ink stains, blots on her shirt that she probably hasn’t noticed yet and unkempt hair, Catra sees  _ Adora _ . Not the infallible idol placed on a pedestal by her gushing admirers, but the girl whose imperfections highlighted the humanity in her that many saw as a distraction.

Her Adora.

Oh, well, she can mourn her loss later. Presently, she wants to enjoy Adora’s efforts.

Egotistical, maybe greedy, call it what you will. Adora trying her best for her is an extension of her love for Catra and she loves receiving that love. Plus, it's sort of endearing that Adora is willingly subjecting herself to this obvious torture just to show she cares.

“Know what this means?” She asks, nail tapping the parchment.

“No…?” That’s awfully specific of her. Is this some trick question?

“It reads ‘kiss’,” Catra gets up on her knees, temporarily taller as Adora remains seated, “as in, give me a kiss,” then, she pounces. 

Adora lands on her back, Catra balancing atop her, feet planted on each thigh. They've been in this position so many times before they might as well trademark it as theirs. Catra darts forward, narrowly missing her target. Her second attempt is met with the same resistance. “Nuh-uh. You made fun of me earlier.”

“You laughed at me, too!” The librarian lowers her book and shoots Catra a reprimanding glare. Catra ducks down, leaning closer to Adora. “You owe me double for getting me in trouble.”

“No way, that’s on you!” 

“Just submit, you know you want to.” 

“Never.” 

Any patrons entering the library would be met with a confusing sight of limbs flailing. Knees bumping, elbows knocking and the distinct sound of skin slapping skin as they scuffle. Annoyingly, Adora wrangles herself loose each time as Catra fights to pin her.

"Sub-mit, submit.” Catra says through clenched teeth. “A-Ador-ow! Adora, just, just yield."

"Not. Happening."

Tiny red lines adorn her arms, black nails nicking her accidentally. They sting a little, but that's it. The scratches and bites she got when Catra was teething were way more painful. 

Teething was generally a painful process, but for Catra it seemed to be almost maddening. To ease Catra's torment, Adora would sneak an ice pack from the mess hall or dunk a rag in cold water and allow Catra to bite down on it. It worked for the most part, but Catra found a greater comfort in biting Adora. The feeling of razor sharp fangs sinking into her flesh was painful, very painful, but she’d endure the brunt of it if that meant Catra’s own pain would abate. 

Those times were special to her. 

Adora shakes her head slightly. Silly girl, now’s not the time to be daydreaming while in the clutches of a dangerous foe, it’s time to stand by her words and show Catra she can't always get one over her. Actually, now's the time to move because Catra has picked up on her being distracted and uses it as her chance to strike. 

Adora shifts her head to a side just in time, mouth forming an ‘o’ as Catra basically faceplants. 

"Ow! Adora!"

Adora folds her lips, a poor attempt to stifle her laughter. 

"Stop laughing!"

"What? Me, laugh? I’m shocked that you would think I’d do such a thing.” Liar. Catra's ear flicks, lips twisted in a pouting scowl. 

Hey, give her credit, she kept it together for the span of five seconds. Spluttering giggles fill the space between them, her head falling back with a 'thump'. “Serves you right."

Before Catra can retort, a loud 'psst' from the entrance causes them to look up. Halfway through the door, C'yra waves at her. Catra checks the clock situated on the wall adjacent to the librarian. 9:30. Almost time for the meeting. 

“This isn't over." Catra hisses, a gleam of determination on her face. One last glare and she makes her exit, fixing herself on the way out, book tucked under her arm. Faintly, Adora can hear C'yra asking what happened to her nose. Catra responding with, "I don’t wanna talk about it."

Catra's departure brings an end to their lesson. Pens, pencils, journal. Adora packs them in her satchel, tucking it neatly underneath the table. She forms a cushion with her arms, torso resting on the desk, head cradled in the makeshift support. 

Sad to say, there's not much for her to do at the moment. Catra, pestilent as she was, provided her much wanted companionship. People would often say she was at her happiest when Catra was near. 

_ 'Wish she didn't have to go so soon.'  _ She'd acted like she was okay when Catra delivered the news to her, but acting was never her strong suit. Catra no doubt read through the superficial smile she'd put on and the brittle laugh she'd forced out. 

Catra had obligations, tons and tons of obligations that she took seriously because when Catra had a job to do she didn't believe in half-assing it. Adora couldn't expect her to drop them at a dime just so she could avoid the chasm of loneliness that penetrated her very being. And, she didn't, she really didn't. Still, not much could be done to negate the profound sense of pining she felt every time she saw Catra off. 

_ 'We're supposed to be supporting each other, yet here I am wanting to chain her down. Good grief.'  _ I n the midst of admonishing herself, another selfish thought pops up.  _ ‘...If only she could stay.’  _ Wouldn't that be a treat? But Adora couldn't let her base desires control her and push such a life changing question on Catra. She won't deny that the thought does hold a certain appeal, though. ' _ I’m a damned lovesick fool.’ _

"Is that your thinking face? If so, do I have some bad news for you."

Picking her head up, Adora furrows her brow at her new visitor. "Double Trouble?"

"At your service."

"Wow, been a while." Adora bends herself inward, back cracking in reprimand of her poor posture. “What brings you by?”

Double Trouble crosses their legs as they take a seat on the table top even though there's a perfectly good mat on the floor, blatantly ignoring the librarian's chiding frown. "Business. Someone's paying me a hefty amount to keep an eye on one of the royals in today's negotiations. Apparently, they've gotten involved in rather unsavoury business. No assassinations, though, I promise." They draw an 'x' above their heart at the wary tilt of her head. "Well…  _ Yet _ , anyway."

Double Trouble had returned to the Crimson Wastes after Prime's defeat. They saw no reason in sticking around if there was no coin to be earned. There wasn't much of a fuss, most of the Rebellion still on the fence about the mercenary. In fact, a couple were glad to see them go. 

Yet, whispers floated around town of a strange green-ish black shimmer in dark alleyways or a villager catching a glimpse of their own face in a crowd. 

At least one incident was reported every three weeks, each nearer and nearer to the castle until Double Trouble was practically inside the halls roaming like a guest. 

_ That _ was an issue, and as such, a talk had been called to address concerns of a shape shifting mercenary freely wandering around Bright Moon Castle. Glimmer was all for having them arrested and thrown out and then putting out an alert on them. Bow, bless his soul, had brought it to their attention that while Double Trouble was in town, there weren't necessarily any serious reports of them being up to no good (for once), and maybe they could be granted a form of amnesty as long as they stayed out of mischief. Glimmer mulled over his words, unwilling to easily pardon the person who'd dealt such a devastating blow to their relationship. Yes, they'd assisted them in the past, but that was for their own gain and self preservation and not out of the kindness of their heart. Half an hour later (after asking to be given some time to think on it), Glimmer accepted her friend's suggestion and personally confronted Double Trouble with the terms of the agreement put forth in their favour. 

_ "A thousand thank you's, your majesty." Double Trouble bows deeply in the way only they can, their razor sharp teeth gleaming and third eyelid blinking.  _

Fake as it may have seemed, Adora believed they actually meant it. She caught them many times staring longingly when she, Bow and Glimmer interacted, sharing laughs and smiles with one another. Mercenaries weren't welcomed in many circles. Shapeshifting ones were definite pariahs. 

Double Trouble was lonely. She'd bet her favourite white shirt on it (and she has ten). 

"That's… comforting." 

"Not attending the meeting, I see." Twisting their spine in a way that would end in back problems for the average person, they lay belly up on the table, legs swaying in the air. "Living up to your rebel nature and ditching your duties?"

"No, I’m not ‘ditching my duties’. Glimmer gave me the day off." A watered down version of the truth, but whatever. 

Double Trouble's eyes narrow, glinting. "Sulking like a lovesick teenager doesn't equate to relaxing, hun, and don't even try denying it." Her mouth, opened to fire back a response, slowly closes as Double Trouble stretches out gloriously on the table. "Our darling won’t be here for much longer, will she?"

Adora nibbles on the inside of her cheek, staring at her reflection in the varnished table. “That obvious, huh?"

"As transparent as a glass of water." 

Guess Bow was right about that ‘moping out loud’ thing.

_ “We  _ hear  _ you before you even enter the room.” Bow says, face doing that thing when he tries to be as gentle as possible while being brutally honest. _

Adora expels a harsh breath. This is a regular occurrence for her, she shamefully admits. Catra visits, then she leaves and Adora sulks for a bit before pepping back up. It’s childish in her opinion. It’s not like she won’t see her again. With the way time works, she’ll be back in Adora’s orbit again, even if only for a short while. 

Despite that, watching her leave never got any easier.

They spoke well enough via communication tablets. The only downside being that they weren’t able to speak for too long, their presence or opinion constantly required, so they used what little moments they could find. Simple check-ins on how the other was doing, asking how each other’s respective family and friends were. Small stuff.

Seeing Catra’s face on that screen, lit up, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she narrated to Adora how a nobleman made a complete ass of himself in front of the entire council while sounding so self-assured made the distance between seem a tad less intimidating.

Unlike...

Unlike after the war.

_ It’s like something straight out of a story book. The ones you read where the heroes triumph in vanquishing the heinous villain and the sun rises at dawn as if to symbolize that the fight is over and it is time to start anew. The heroes cheer and celebrate and cry tears of happiness. _

_ Except, this isn’t a story. This is reality. And, the harsh repercussions felt in fiction are increased tenfold. _

_ There are no celebratory cheers as the morning sun breaches the horizon, the light of dawn bathing the battle scarred land with its glow. All is quiet save for a few groans and hushed conversations as those who’d fought and survived checked on their comrades. Those who didn’t make it… they’d be given a proper service and a monument in remembrance of their sacrifice. _

_ Dust swirls in the wreckage that was Prime's ship. Large pieces of metal are scattered everywhere, torn and jagged and protruding from the earth.  _

_ Adora squints as the dry air blows across her face, coughing when she inhales specks of dust particles. She looks around, surveying the land. By Eternia, this is going to be one hell of a clean up job. She counts the survivors, those she can discern. The numbers aren't promising, causing her stomach to pitch and turn. Maybe, maybe there are more people and they're simply hidden beneath the ruins.  _

_ She has to keep hope.  _

_ On the–well, she probably shouldn't say bright side because there's nothing bright about this–her friends are alive. Battered and bruised, but alive.  _

_ Over yonder, she spots Bow sitting with Glimmer on what used to be the spacecraft’s control panel.  _

_ Adora starts to hobble towards them, pausing when she catches her reflection in a partially obscured shard of glass. She looks absolutely awful; it's a wonder she's even standing. Blood is caked into her hair, purple blossoms blooming on her chin and cheeks in a sea of bleeding cuts. There's a red blemish in her right eye, probably bloodshot from a blow she'd received as she fought off the Prime clones.  _

_ Her shoulder aches fiercely, actually scratch that, her entire body hurts, right down to her bones and the pain radiating in her left thigh seems to be a major area. ‘Healer Larx is going to have a field day.’  _

_ Adora tugs at her jacket, the hooded garb shredded to kingdom come and virtually unsalvageable. She discards the piece of rag, watching as it billows in the wind. She's left in her white undershirt, the section covering her abdomen sporting slashes and stained red.  _

_ Resuming her trek to Glimmer and Bow, she stops along the way to assist those she could, guiding others to the medical personnel flooding the war zone.  _

_ When she reaches her friends, no words are exchanged, just stares and lips moving wordlessly. _

_ It's Adora who breaks the standstill, falling to her knees despite her body protesting as she embraces them. Adora leans back so she can look at them. Glimmer wears a face as though expecting anger from Adora; Bow waiting with baited breath.  _

_ Undoubtedly, she is angry, she's angry about a lot, but her overwhelming sense of relief is far greater in this moment.  _

_ "Adora, I'm so… " Glimmer starts, visibly choked up. "I–" _

_ Adora halts whatever apology she has formulating. "We can talk later," she whispers, drawing in close again as she presses their foreheads together. "Right now, there's someone more important you need to be with."  _

_ Glimmer inches back slightly, confusion written on her face. “Wha-” _

_ “Glimmer?” _

_ That voice. _

_ Confusion is quickly replaced with disbelief, tears filling her eyes. She slowly breaks from the arms that supported her for so long, turning where she’s sat to find the person she thought she’d lost forever. “Mom?” _

_ Queen Angella, in all her immortal nobility, stands among the rubble and dirt, face wrought with so many emotions that trying to describe them with a single word would be an injustice. _

_ Glimmer takes a step forward, then another before she leaps and disappears in a cloud of sparkles, reappearing in her mother's arms as hot tears stream down her cheeks. "I've missed you so much!" _

_ Angella holds her as she sobs, stroking her hair. "I've missed you, too, my love," she whispers, her own eyes wet with unshed tears.  _

_ “I’ve never felt so relieved to see Queen Angella.” Bow says aloud, awaiting a response that never came because Adora isn’t beside him anymore. She’s three feet away when Bow turns. He calls out to her, arm half raised. “Adora, where are you going? Don’t you want to see Angella?” _

_ Not facing him, Bow notices the way her shoulders draw back. Glancing at Bow, a rueful smile drawn on her lips, she answers, “I’m… going to let them have this moment. You go on and share a hug for the both of us, yeah?”  _

_ Bow simply stands there, watching as she walks away from him, arm slowly returning to his side. “Yeah… okay.”  _

_ Adora doesn’t look behind her, back straight and shoulders squared as she distances herself from her friends,  _ _ her family _ _. She isn’t stupid, she may not be the best with emotions, but she’s not stupid. She heard the dejection in Bow’s voice, his expression matching perfectly no doubt. Fully aware of what risking a peek over her shoulder would lead to.  _

_ ‘Or, maybe you’re more afraid of facing Queen Angella.’ _

_ She stumps her foot, catching herself as she’s thrown off kilter by the unexpected voice. Gone is the self assured posture she toted only seconds ago, replaced by sagging shoulders and a hunched back. Adora clenches her fists, eyes narrowed at the cracked earth. Great. Her brain was always good at that, offering up the most useless of thoughts at the worst times.  _

_ ‘But,’ she loosens her fists, arms dangling limply at her sides, ‘but, what if that’s true?’  _

_ Face it, she tells herself, Angella asked her to protect Glimmer and what does she do? Let her fall into the web of the manipulative parasite she once thought of as a maternal figure. Oh, and let’s not forget the abduction by an intergalactic space colonizer while on a power trip.  _

_ ‘Saviour of the year goes to yours truly.’ Her feet start moving before the voluntary action even registers in her brain. Guess this was their way of telling her suck it up and get back to the important matters at hand. Like checking on her friends and those alike. ‘I’ll deal with that inevitable crash later.’  _

_ Pushing aside the looming existential crisis, Adora sets out to aid those in need of assistance. _

_ Adora removes slabs of debris crushing comrades, pulling them free. Others she carries in her arms, depositing them in the care of the skilled mages; a select few she recognizes from Mystacor. But, the majority… the majority she lays to rest, folding their arms over their chest and closing their eyes. _

_ Throughout all of this, one nagging question persists in her thoughts. _

_ Where’s Catra?  _

_ Out of all the broken bodies she’s found, all the lifeless souls she’s laid to rest, she hasn’t seen hide nor hair of her former best friend turned-enemy, turned-potential-ally? _

_ ‘Hell, I don’t know what we are.’ Adora thinks, lifting a sizable rock and sparing a soldier from its crushing weight. ‘But, I have to find her.’  _

_ She ventures further out into the wreckage, halting when her path’s blocked by protruding spikes of metal. Stooping, Adora gauges the gap presented to her in the crossing steel. She can crawl through, but it’ll be a tight fit. Wasting no time, Adora gets on her belly and starts to squeeze pass, her shoulders proving a bit of a hindrance, but once she slips her upper body through, her lower half is easier to pull in.  _

_ Inside… Inside the body of the ship is infinitely worse, Adora notes, gulping at the carnage before her. Bodies—severed limbs and the dismembered torso of clones and friends—decorate the space with a macabre image. Up high on a frightening spike is a young boy she met while in preparation for the battle. The metal protrudes from his chest, blood drenching his chest as his eyes stare lifelessly ahead. _

_ Swallowing proves difficult, her stomach wanting to revolt and add her own putrid touch to the horrific scene. She swoons, head feeling light as she stumbles to support herself. The adrenaline is probably fading, leaving her to fend against the fatigue and realizations on her lonesome.  _

_ Wait. _

_ A dreadful thought brews in her mind.  _

_ During her search of the outside, she hadn’t seen any trace of Catra. _

_ What if… What if she’s… _

_ ‘No no no no no!’ Adora clutches her head, teeth clenched in angry snarl. ‘We are not going down that road. I refuse. I refuse!’ _

_ Steeling her nerves, Adora wades through the sea of dead, ducking sparking wires and dripping entrails. Sleep is going to evade her like a spurned lover in these coming months. Splatters of red paint the ground, clinging to her boots as she moves onwards. She makes the mistake of touching a wall beside her, reeling when the wet slick stains her palm. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. _

_ No no no no. _

_ Don’t panic. Don’t. Panic. _

_ Focus, focus. Focus on what’s ahead, don’t look left or right.  _

_ Focus on Scorpia just a couple feet away helping others instead standing here and freaking out like you want to. _

_ “Scorpia!” Thank goodness, a familiar face. She vaults over a steel beam, running to the taller woman.  _

_ “Adora? Adora!” Scorpia in her eagerness almost drops the sheet of steel on the trapped figure beneath. If not for that, Adora’s certain she’d be squeezed up in a hug fighting to breathe. “Oh, thank gosh. It is so good to see a friendly face in this horror show.” _

_ “Yeah, don’t remind me. Here, let me help with that.” Of course, Adora knows Scorpia doesn’t need her help, but she’ll take any excuse she can to keep her mind steady. Up close with Scorpia, Adora finally notices who the pinned person is. “General Valere!” _

_ The scarred general’s left side is trapped underneath the heavy metal. She’s fading in and out of consciousness. It must be taking all of her energy to stay awake and given her state that’s not saying much. She needs treatment and possibly a transfusion with the amount of blood she’s losing from the deep gouge in her stomach.  _

_ “Okay, Scorpia, we need to move fast. On three… Two, three!” Scorpia and Adora shoot up in unison, Scorpia holding the dense steel while Adora carefully drags her out. Freed of the suffocating pressure, General Valere’s eyes weakly flutter open as she takes in the fuzzy images of her saviours.  _

_ “S-She-Ra, your-your l-leg.” _

_ Adora cranes her head down and oh, wow, that explains the pain she was feeling earlier. Her trousers are soaked with blood stemming from a gaping slash on her thigh she can see through the tears in the fabric. How lucky can she get that it missed a vital artery. “Oh, that’s a lotta blood, ha-ha, wow.” Standing, Adora turns to Scorpia, deliberately ignoring her injured leg. “Scorpia, is there anyone else alive?” _

_ Hopefully a certain feline with big ears. _

_ “Only a handful of fighters, all in really bad shape. The healers already came in and took them, I was helping when I saw the general.” Scorpia herself is pretty banged up, but the burly woman doesn’t seem to pay her wounds any mind. _

_ That… wasn’t the answer she expected. While she was glad others survived, they’re not her main concern. _

_ Taking a deep breath, Adora exhales. “Okay, okay. You take the general out of here.”  _

_ “And what about you? Your leg’s bleeding really bad, Adora.” _

_ “I’ll be fine. I just have to… I need to search around a little more, make sure no one else got missed.” _

_ She needs to find Catra. _

_ Don’t take this taxing need of hers to find Catra as her not being cross with the cat-girl. Adora’s absolutely livid and her helping them in the final battle doesn’t mean she’s forgiven. Far from. But, regretfully, Adora still  _ _ cares  _ _ for Catra. After everything that’s transpired, Adora can’t bring herself to genuinely hate Catra, even if Catra hates her.  _

_ She will never stop caring for Catra because a part of her still stubbornly clings to the ghost of her former best friend.  _

_ And because Catra is important to her, painfully so. _

_ Cradling the general in her arms, Scorpia contemplates quietly. “I didn’t see her, in case you’re wondering. But, maybe you’ll have better luck finding her if she isn’t… isn’t gone.” _

_ Adora hopes her face isn’t bent or twisted in any odd way to tell of her discomfort at that possibility. Nodding, she sets off on her own.  _

_ The longer she walks, she grows numb to the death that surrounds her, but the sinking feeling in her gut constantly grows heavier the more she endures. The pain in her leg flares up in protest of her negligence, but she pays it no heed. She’s almost near the end anyways, spotting an exit that leads to what remains of the woods.  _

_ Yet, no sign of Catra.  _

_ Hope dwindling, Adora passes by an open section of gnarled metal, giving a minor glance to her right when she stops in her tracks, the air knocked straight out of her lungs.  _

_ Catra.  _

_ It’s Catra.  _

_ Sitting in the wastes on her knees, Catra grips her mask, eyes unmoving as she thumbs over the dents and chips in the dark metal.  _

_ “Catra,” a mumbled utterance of stupor swept away by the wind. “Catra.” She says audibly this time, stepping through the hole. It starts with a hesitant walk, then a speed walk transitioning into a jog before Adora breaks out in a sprint despite her injured leg. “Catra! Catra! Catra!” She belts out like a mantra. _

_ Catra finally blinks, breaking the trance she appeared to be stuck in. By the time she’s aware of what’s happening, a hard body crashes into hers, knocking her mask out of her grasp. The arms embrace her so tight that the pressure aggravates her wounds, yet she can’t gather the will to push away. She feels the fur on her neck growing damp. “Adora.”  _

_ Adora swears she forgets to breathe when her name’s said in that throaty voice.  _

_ “What are you doing here, Adora?” _

_ Pulling back, but still clutching her shoulders, Adora’s mouth trembles. Catra’s face, it’s bruised and covered in lacerations, dirty peach fuzz dyed with red. Bicoloured eyes tell so much, but the most pertinent emotion is fatigue. “I-I was searching for survivors when I realized I hadn’t seen you, so-so I started looking.” _

_ Catra snorts. “Let me rephrase,  _ _ why  _ _ are here, Adora?” _

_ “I-I don’t understand, what do you-” _

_ “Just what it sounds like!” The sudden burst of anger causes Adora to flinch, losing hold of her grip on Catra. “The war’s over, you’ve won. I’m sure you have better things to do with your friends instead of,” the brief rage moments ago dissolves into forlorn admission, “instead of sitting here on the dirty ground with me.” _

_ Shocked may be the best way to describe Adora’s plight as the words bounce around inside her head. She hadn’t expected such a confession. Opening and closing her mouth a few times as she tries to find the right words. Gods, why is she so terrible at this? Fingers twitching, she instinctively reaches out, but stops because she isn’t sure it’s wanted. Heart beating harder the longer she keeps quiet and with Catra’s hardened gaze stabbing into her, she stutters out a reply. “Catra, why wouldn’t I try and find you? You’re my… You’re my…” Heavens, she can’t even say what Catra is to her because she doesn’t  _ _ know  _ _ what their relationship is anymore.  _

_ Catra laughs a laugh so bitter it’s reminiscent of that time in the portal when the creeping void was materializing metres behind them. “Admit it, Adora, we’re nothing to each other. Not anymore.” Willing herself to stand, swaying a little, Catra towers over Adora who looks up at her with wide eyes. “When I woke up after the crash and could think straight enough, I asked myself: ‘Why am I alive when all these people,” she makes a sweeping gesture to the bodies around them, “‘aren’t?’ I see it as karma, me having to live with the knowledge that I played a role in ensuring the death of so many.” Catra shows her back to Adora, facing the Whispering Woods. “Well, I think I’m done playing roles. Sidekick, villain, temporary hero, I’ve done it all and now I’m finished.”  _

_ Vision going blurry as her eyes well-up with tears. Breathing normally becomes difficult, a stifling sensation gripping her throat everytime she swallows. Hearing Catra speak felt significantly more painful than the wounds adorning her body. Adora gets up on one knee, arm outstretched. “Catra, wait.” _

_ “Bye, Adora.” _

_ That’s all it takes. Two words the opposite of what she’s used to and Catra walking away. Everything that happens next is instinctive, Adora lunging for her, grabbing her forearm and Catra struggling to break free. “Catra, please!” _

_ “Why can’t you just let me go?!” Catra snarls, shaking loose from the strong hold. “You were so eager to do it when you found that stupid sword! There shouldn’t be any problem doing it again!”  _

_ “Because I care about you!” Adora goes to grab her like before. Only, this time, there are detrimental consequences.  _

_ Catra whirls on her, face contorted in fury, claws unsheathed. “You  _ _ can’t  _ _ care about me!”  _

_ Adora recoils with a shout as they slice through her bicep. Reflexively, Adora covers the new wound as she staggers back slightly. She looks between the symmetrical slices and Catra, more emotionally hurt than anything else.  _

_ And Catra?  _

_ Catra instantly forgets her anger, alarmed disbelief etched into her features as she stares at her bloodied claws, shaking. Catra draws in a deep breath, closing her eyes then opening them and Adora has never been so easily able to see the obvious hurt and pain in them.  _

_ “You can’t care about me because all I’ve ever done is harm you. Even now I’m still causing you pain.” Catra shakes her head, wild mane blowing in the wind as a lone tear streams down the side of her face. “Face it, we’re no good for each other.” Pivoting, Catra says her final statement, “I don’t need you anymore... and you certainly don’t need me.” _

_ With that, she’s gone, loping off into the thick shadows of the Whispering Woods. _

_ Adora collapses to her knees, hopelessly trying to catch a glimpse of Catra, praying that this is one of her cruel pranks. But this isn’t a prank or mean joke. She’s gone. Catra’s really gone. What she said, she meant. She didn’t need Adora, and as far as she was concerned, Adora didn’t need her. _

_ Resigned to this harsh truth, Adora hides her face behind a curtain of her hair, teardrops landing on the broken mask between her legs.  _

Adora idly touches the scars on her arm. She’d agonized almost every night after that gut-wrenching encounter, constantly wondering about Catra’s fate.

“If I may,” Double Trouble’s voice snatches Adora back from the battlefield of her thoughts to the present. Expression strangely neutral, Double Trouble sits properly, elbows on the wood as the cradle their head. “I’m no guru when it comes to this romance stuff, never really cared for it, but why not ask Catra to stay here with you instead of agonizing over it?”

“W-W-What?” Adora stammers, a blush heating her cheeks. “No, no, I couldn’t do that.” 

“Oh, and why’s that?” 

She shrugs noncommittally. “Because.” 

“Because what?”

“Because… I don’t wanna come across as clingy.” Trying to maintain eye contact is tougher than it should be as Double Trouble’s reptilian gaze cuts right through her. “Catra likes her space, and I want to give her that. If she were to live here, I’d want to be with her all the time. That’d probably get annoying for her.” Adora wears her heart on her sleeve, it’s a fact and Double Trouble—ever the master of discerning that which the less blessed can’t—sees the wheels turning in her mind. “She’d have to leave her moms, too, and Catra really loves them. I don’t want to make her choose.”

“That’s sweet.”

Adora’s face lights up. “Thanks—”

“And pathetic.”

_ “ _ Hey! _ ” _

“I just heard a whole list of excuses.” Double Trouble quips, twirling their ponytail, then: “You’re afraid.”

“Afraid?” Adora repeats. “I’m-I’m not afraid.” 

“Yet, you don’t ask  _ why  _ you’d be afraid.” Double Trouble drawls, sitting upright. “How delightfully interesting.” They tilt their head to a side, eyes narrowing as their signature smirk curls their lips. 

Adora subtly clenches her jaw, swallowing. That ‘smile’ is an unsettling sight, a charming image seen just before you get your beliefs blown out the water. She uses her index finger to scratch the skin of her thumb, a thin layer of sweat forming in her palm. “Okay,” she starts cautiously, very much regretting saying a word with the way those intuitive slits hone in on her discomfort, “ _ Why  _ do you think I’m afraid?”

“It’s simple, honey,” Their tone is saccharine like the lush fruit growing in the palace’s orchard, but Adora knows better. Anyone less experienced would fall for their words due to their kind façade, only to be cut deep when Double Trouble punished them for their naïveté. “You love Kitten, you do, but you’re afraid of her rejecting you.”

“Rejection?”

“That’s right.” Double Trouble purrs, drawing a vortex on the varnished top, their head resting in their palm. “Picture it. You ask Catra if she wants to stay here. She’ll possibly say no, maybe ask for time to think about it. The situation would be put on the back burner.” 

Adora bows her head, gaze off to the side as her eyes frantically dart from place to place. That’s…. That’s exactly the ways things would go. Catra’s reaction was also creepily accurate. She’s always been the more slightly more level headed one in the relationship.

“You, on the other hand...” That’s  _ not  _ the silky lilt she was hearing mere seconds ago. 

Oh, no. She hadn’t even looked away that long, but when her head snaps up she freezes, appalled by the image of ‘her’ sitting before her. Her ‘copy’ is a perfect clone, from the way her hair’s done to the blots of ink on her shirt. Adora shivers. Witnessing Double Trouble’s ability being used on others was unsettling on a normal day and this isn’t the first time they’ve shifted into her, yet it’s no less disturbing. 

Double Trouble takes in her stupor, smirking in such a way that it mars ‘Adora’s’ features. “You’ll put on a brave face. Pretend you’re okay about the whole thing, but give it time and you’ll start to rag on yourself.” Double Trou—sorry,  _ ‘Adora’  _ says, glacier blue meeting glacier blue, a sparkle of something unknown in the former. “Start wondering why you opened your mouth in the first place. And while Catra carries on as normal, you’ll continue to freak out and beat yourself up because you think you’ve suddenly made your relationship awkward. You’ll begin doing things to make up for the one-sided mess you’ve created until it becomes overbearing and Catra has to rein you in. Sound about right?” ‘Adora’ concludes, a humourless smile parting ‘her’ lips.

The library is deathly still, so quiet you could hear a roach scuttle across the ground (that’s if they had roaches; the castle staff ran a tight shift here). Dumbfounded pretty much sums up the bind Adora’s in, wide-eyed with her mouth gaping. She’s tempted to ask how Double Trouble had so casually dissected her very existence, but the answer’s blatantly obvious: This is what they do. This is what made them such a consummate professional--transforming into their target, learning and understanding everything about them and unveiling the hidden facets of a person’s character simply by being in their skin.

Here, in this open space, with the private company of Double Trouble, she feels exposed, vulnerable to attack. Her public persona has never been more assassinated.

She’d be impressed by the concise analysis if she weren’t so irritated. Was this some type of cosmic karma? Of all the people to be confronted by… 

Loathe as she is to admit it, Adora can’t deny that they’re right in their judgment. Everything said was accurate to a fault.  _ ‘Nosy pest.’  _

There’s no use in trying to defend herself, especially when she does such a poor job at it. Adora gently squeezes her eyes shut, fingers massaging the area of her temple where she can feel a vein throbbing. “Tell me why you’re here, Double Trouble.” Adora quietly instructs, tone tight and unwilling to accept any nonsense. “ _ Really _ here.”

Double Trouble shifts back to their original form, and to her surprise, their face lacks that ‘I know your dirty little secret’ expression they’re so well known for. Total neutrality. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’m here on business. There’s a dirty rat in today’s proceedings I’ve been paid to sniff out.” They stare her dead in the eye and Adora’s proud that she hasn’t backed down. “But I’m in this library instead of doing my job because I saw an… acquaintance of mine looking like she needed a pick-me-up.”

“So shifting into me and picking at my brain is what you consider a pick-me-up?” Adora relaxes her posture as a half smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. She forgets her ire for the time being, latching onto the shapeshifter’s label for their relationship. An acquaintance. It doesn’t carry the same warmth as ‘friend’, but it’s what Double Trouble is aiming for. 

Oh, the irony. An amazing actor who’s horrible with ordinary emotions. 

“Think of it as my way of showing I care.”

“Yeah, I can totally feel the concern.” Adora snarks under her breath.

“Your skin will be tougher in the long run.” When Adora doesn’t rise to the bait, instead placing her chin in her palm, mouth a thin line, Double Trouble sighs. “Listen, what I say, I say for the betterment of the person. I’m not the type to try and sugarcoat things, I always go the extra mile. Granted it may seem harsh, it’s the only sure-shot way for you to be honest with yourself.” Double Trouble points at her, finger aimed directly at Adora’s head. “You’ve both set boundaries out of respect for the other, you specifically. You want Catra to have her autonomy because of a hellish past you unintentionally contributed to and years later you’re still trying to apologize. It’s admirable, I’ll admit, but also stupid.” 

Adora flinches faintly at the insult, fists clenching as corded muscles bulge. That makes Double Trouble drill her harder. “You can’t change the past, sweetie. No matter what you do, that period of your lives will always exist and it’s up to you to decide whether or not it’ll determine your future.” 

Adora watches as the finger pointed at her head moves down, tilting her neck to find it in line with her heart. 

“All of that is to say, don’t you think you’ve sacrificed enough? Isn’t it time you start being a little selfish when it comes to  _ your  _ wants and needs? You get pleasure by being with Catra. It’s not the crime you think it is to want to be close to the person you…  _ care  _ for.” Double Trouble’s expression becomes stern, all but stating ‘I’m done with your bullshit’. “ _ Talk  _ to Catra, hear what she has to say. And please, for the love of the stars, stop brooding. Haven’t you lived through enough teen angst?” 

Words left Adora, her brain forming no useful thoughts. Unbelievable. She was verbally destroyed… again! A-frickin-gain! She opens and closes her mouth, jaw working. Adora glances at the ground, brow furrowed in what can be described as the most bewildered look known to man before peeking back up to catch their eyes, and yup, nothing. 

Then, out of the blue, Adora begins to laugh. 

Splutters turn into small chuckles that soon escalate into full blown mirth that she struggles to keep quiet. Minutes ago, she was upset at the mercenary’s intrusive behaviour, yet now, she can’t stop the way her stomach muscles contract with every spasm.

Double Trouble, for their part, is rightly confused. “What?” They peer left and right, turning to see if someone was behind them making weird gestures. “Is there something on my face? Is my hair sticking out?”

“N-No, it’s not—it’s not that. Your hair’s fine. It’s just…” Adora coughs, clearing her throat as her laughter subsides. “For a person who isn’t a ‘love guru’ you give pretty solid advice.” She says, a genial look on her face.

“Oh… I see.” They murmur, stroking their cheek. 

Adora checks the clock. It’s time she left to attend her own meeting for today. Huntara was probably already at their training grounds and Scorpia would soon be here. “Look,” she begins, gathering her tools in the meantime, “you can be kind of a jerk at times, and sorta mean, but that’s your thing and I suppose I can empathize with you on a certain level. I wasn’t the best with emotions either. Your advice does… help in some cases, however.” 

“I’ll take what you said into account and speak with Catra. She might say no, she might say yes, who knows, right?” Adora stands, satchel slung across her body. Double Trouble rises to meet her, blinking owlishly, fingers pressed together. Rounding the table, Adora stops beside them to touch their shoulder, lips curved. “I get that it’s not really your speed, but if you ever feel like doing your own sharing, don’t be afraid to find me; or anyone here for that matter. We take care of our  _ friends _ .”

With that said, Adora bids them goodbye, exchanging a few pleasantries with the librarian before leaving. 

Double Trouble’s left rooted to their spot, touching the place where Adora’s hand had been. It felt…  _ warm _ . And to their disbelief, so did their face, flushed a healthy shade of green. 

***

Thirty minutes into negotiations and Catra wants to jump out the nearest fucking window and by the looks of it, so did everyone else inside the room. Glimmer, especially. 

Why? Because of the man speaking. A young, fresh faced lad, who was the newly sworn in king to a suffering land thousand of miles away. 

Catra glances up at him. He isn’t a bad looking fellow, fairly handsome actually. Raven hair slicked back, not a strand out of place, complemented by stormy grey eyes; a diamond shaped marking under the right. A strong jawline with prominent cheekbones that would make your average girl giddy-headed. And though he spoke in an educated manner, his voice smooth like spider silk... 

He was an absolute fucking moron. 

By the moon, was he an idiot. Not only was he a buffoon, he was also a lecherous skunk. From the moment Catra had stepped foot in the room with her mother, she had felt a pair of eyes on her, watching her every move. Call it a Magicat’s sixth sense or whatever, but when Catra finally found the culprit, her fur bristled. It was one thing to have to deal with people who loved to bring up her past, another to deal with losers who were horny for a good time in the midst of discussions.

Needless to say, Catra wanted to take an hour long shower to scrub the grime off her body with the way he undressed her with his eyes.  _ ‘It’s all in my fur, I can feel it.’ _

Besides her, C’yra is positively dumbfounded, her thoughts clear as day. Catra snorts, a little too audibly unfortunately, because he stops talking and throws her a questioning brow.

“Is everything alright, Princess Catra?” He asks, that slimy twinkle Catra first saw when she caught him staring back again.

“Parched is all,” she makes a show of drinking a mouthful of water, nevermind the revulsion rolling in her stomach at the smarmy tone. Oh, how she hated being called that, despised it more-so coming from his mouth. She waves for him to carry on.

As he resumes, Catra opens her notebook, flipping through the pages while she plays with the frost on her glass. She stops on an inked page. Prince Cessair, hailing from the Kingdom of Smog, now King after his father’s recent passing. Catra squints, ruminating over his presence.  _ ‘Funny, I thought his older brother was next in line.’  _

Another half an hour passes and finally (heavens be praised) he stops talking. Catra wasn’t sure how much longer she would’ve lasted. Her mother had resorted to occupying herself by idly parting segments in her fur to resemble a braid. 

Glimmer takes the floor after he’s seated, clearing her throat and appearing very much worn out. “Thank you, King Cessair, for your… insightful opinions. We’ll certainly take them into consideration.” Glimmer glances briefly at Catra the same time she side-eyes her, their thoughts synchronizing.  _ Like hell we will.  _ “If there’s nothing more that needs to be said, today’s meeting will be adjourned here. If you need to speak with me in private, please do not hesitate to approach me.” 

With her last words, those present rose from their seats, already milling around the room in their respective circles. 

Catra stands up, arms stretched above her head, yawning wide. 

“Quite the talker, isn’t he?” C’yra drawls as she comes to stand beside Catra. She rolls her shoulders and cracks her neck. “Can’t even feel my ass.” C’yra makes a point of rubbing her backside, pouting. 

“Pretty sure mine’s as flat as a pancake.” Catra peeks over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of her rear. “Ah, no, we’re good. Perky as ever.”

The mother-daughter duo share a chorus of giggles at their silliness. Catra loved both her mothers, but when it came to crass humour, C’yra and her were two peas in a pod.

Their private moment is interrupted when Glimmer comes over to greet them both. Dipping, she addresses C’yra. “Queen C’yra, it’s good to see you.” As for Catra, she throws her a sneer and mockingly says, “Furball.”

Catra doesn’t miss a beat, firing back with, “Almost didn’t see you there, Sparkles. Might wanna grow an inch or two.” 

C’yra rolls her eyes at them, smiling calmly. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you two disliked each other.” She greets the young Queen with a bow of her head. “Hello, my dear, how have you been?”

“As good as one can be after listening to a manchild prattle on and on.” Glimmer scoffs, half turning to give a scornful glare to the bastard son of obnoxiousness and arrogance. King Cessair, forgetful of where he is or simply not caring, has a young Princess cornered. The poor girl obviously wants to be anywhere but there, but with his arm trapping her in place, she can’t run as he invades her personal space. Glimmer growls lowly. Locking eyes with a guard, she signals with her head for him to de-escalate the situation.

“Revolting.” C’yra frowns at the blatant display of disrespect, watching as the guard separates him from the girl, warning him to which he raises his hands in surrender; an insufferable smirk on his face. “Moving on. Glimmer, dear, has my darling daughter here been causing you trouble during her stay?” 

“Oh, you could say that.” Glimmer says airily, loosely folding her arms. “The groundskeeper made a formal request to keep her away from the koi ponds. Caught her running off with a fish in her mouth a couple weeks back.”

Catra sneers, sticking out her tongue. “That was one time and one fish. Plus, he should be thanking me. The pond was starting to get crowded, I just acted as population control.” Before she can react, C’yra pinches her nose and pokes her cheek. “O-ow, stop it!”

“What’s that, little kitra? I can’t hear you over your obsession with fish.” C’yra holds her for a minute longer before allowing her to jump back. She snorts as Catra wriggles her nose, very much resembling a kitten.

“‘Kitra?’” Glimmer repeats, and Catra is so not a fan of her tone, floppy ears laying flat on her head.

“Ah, yes. Let me explain. You see, when Catra was a wee kit and was learning how to talk, there were some words that didn’t take so easily. Her name, for example, when we called out for her she’d copy Khepri and I, though not as accurate, I’m afraid. Shouting ‘Kitra! Kitra!’ instead.” 

“That is so cute.” Glimmer throws an arm around Catra’s shoulders, tugging her closer. “Who knew there was as much fluff on the inside as there is on the outside?”

Catra blows a raspberry directly in her face, delighting in the way Glimmer squeals and recoils as spittle lands on her. “Keep it up and I’ll tell Khepri what really happened to her favourite jacket.”

To say that Catra enjoyed the look of utter horror that painted her mother’s face would be an understatement. 

C’yra’s fright was very much warranted. Her other mother was downright terrifying when angered. Unlike C’yra who was vocal about her displeasure, Khepri was bone chilling stares and deadly silence, proof that a lack of physical reaction could be way more dangerous than an actual one.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?” 

C’yra opens her mouth to respond, but a hardy voice cuts in. 

“Exchanging embarrassing tales at our children’s expense, are we?” All attention is given to the new arrival. Micah approaches their small circle, coming to a stop with his chest puffed out and hands akimbo; expression stern. It lasts for a sole millisecond before a wide smile breaks out on his face, laughter lines etched into his cheeks. “I’d be more than happy to tell you about our Sparklebomb.”

“Dad, no!” 

Catra shoves Glimmer aside, ears perked and ready for the sweet blackmail. “Micah, yes.” C’yra, too, appears intrigued, her earlier fright forgotten as she lends Micah both ears.

Micah strokes his beard thoughtfully. “She was three years old and already a handful. One afternoon, I was trying to give her a bath, but the energetic rascal teleported away! Picture me covered in soap suds trying to keep up with a disappearing toddler who’s naked as the day she was born, sounds of ‘Tinkle, tinkle, little gem’ echoing in the hallways. Thank goodness her mother caught her before she ended up in the courtyard.”

Glimmer turns a shade that gives the heart of Bow’s armour a run for its money, cheeks burning fiercely as Catra laughs her ass off. She grabs the bottom of her cape and yanks it over her head, wanting to teleport away so badly but resisting the urge. She wasn’t going to let Catra have two things to hold against her. “Dad, why are you like this!?”

C’yra feels sorry for the blushing girl, unable to contain the few chuckles that escape. “Naughty as ever, aren’t you, old friend?” 

“It’s one of my many charming points.” Micah greets her with a bow of his head, shaking C’yra’s hands in the process. “It’s great to speak you again, your majesty. Are things back in Halfmoon well?”

“I left it standing in one piece and I’d hope to go back to it the same way.”

While their parents catch up, Catra guides a cherry red Glimmer elsewhere. “Come on, Sparkles, let’s give these two some time to chat.” Also, because she didn’t want to stick around when the possibility of any more childhood tales filtering into the conversation was exponentially high and Catra wanted to keep the leverage she had.

They seat themselves on the broad sill of a window, sunlight bathing their bodies. Glimmer sits hunched over, elbows on hers knees as she holds her head. 

“I want to curl up in a dark corner and forget my entire existence.”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic.” Catra leans back on the wall, crossing her leg over the other as it hangs, tail curling in her lap. “If it makes you feel any better, it’ll be our little secret.” 

Glimmer taps her chin idly, seemingly contemplating Catra’s words. “Nope! Definitely don’t feel any better.” She copies her feline friend’s posture. “You’re taking it fairly well.”

Catra shrugs. “Helps that I don’t remember much of my early childhood.” 

There’s no underlying bitterness in her words or resentfulness to her visage. Catra never really gave much thought about where she came from while in the Horde. She knew she had parents—how else would she get here—but she, like many of the other cadets, didn’t dwell on the fact of their origins. Sentimentality in the Horde was a lethal thing. 

As she fought to survive her day to day life of unwarranted torture and unkind words, at night she’d let her mind drift, wondering if her parents—her real ones—would have loved her: spoken encouraging words to her, told her that she wasn’t a worthless runt after all. 

She got her answers the day she fell into that underground cavern. The void engulfing her heart slowly mended as she connected with those around her. 

“Forgetting my lack of a decent childhood, what royal duties do you have lined up today?”

“Not much, thank goodness. Once the place clears out, I’m off to sign a few treaties before spending the rest of the day with my dad. We’re hitting the village shops to see who has the best pastries.” Imagining the taste of the soft pastry and sweet jam melting in her mouth fills her with excitement. “You make any plans with your mom?”

“We’re going fishing in the woods tomorrow. There’s a quiet spot we found the last time she visited.” Catra’s tail flicks where it rests as she turns back to Glimmer. “How’s Angella by the way? She enjoying her retreat in Mystacor?”

“I’d really like to think so, but it’s her and Aunt Casta. They’ve probably argued half of the time she’s been there.” Glimmer lifts her shoulder in a half shrug. “But it was her idea to, I quote, ‘strengthen familial bonds’, so she has to put up with it.” 

Catra nods her head in understanding. She had the sneaking suspicion the former Queen had been influenced by her husband, however. She stretches her arms above her head, jaws parting as she yawns. 

Rescuing Angella from the void had earned Catra her gratitude, but not her forgiveness. That had been more than she was expecting anyway because she had been predicting venomous glares and scathing words.

Seeing said woman during visits to Brightmoon as a diplomat was painful in the beginning. Not the ‘stop pulling my ear’ type of painful, but more of ‘my chest hurts and I can’t explain why’ type of painful. 

Guilt. And, there was a  _ lot  _ of it.

Luckily, she got over her nerves sooner than she’d expected. Having Glimmer in her corner might have aided tremendously in overcoming that hurdle. No need to tell her that though. Eventually, she and Angella were able to speak on amicable terms.

Catra takes a gander out the spotless window, the sunlight glinting on the gold she’s wearing and enhancing the shade of her fur. Glimmer checks in on their parents. They’re still talking, joking around to be exact; her father laughing that booming roar of his as C’yra wipes a tear from her eye. 

“Your stay here is almost up. Any thoughts on that?”

Catra keeps her attention trained on the outside, tracking a blue bird as it flits by. “Neutral, I guess. It’s not like I can do much to change it, so I’m making the most of the time remaining.” 

Glimmer puckers her lips, nodding sagely. “That’s real mature of you. Shocking.”

“Aren’t I just full of surprises?”

“Just a walking bag of tricks, you are.” A lull in conversation before, “Adora’s gonna be pretty sad when you leave.” 

Catra glances slowly at Glimmer and calmly says, “Adora’s a big girl, she’ll live.” She resumes her sightseeing of the outdoors, but her posture is stiffer, ears flicking in intervals. 

“Right, right, of course.” Glimmer’s eager reply causes Catra’s tail to uncurl and drape over the edge of the window sill, swishing side to side. “Doesn’t mean you can’t ask her to, I don’t know, go back to Halfmoon with you.” 

_ ‘Here we go.’ _

“Not this again.” Catra suddenly whirls on Glimmer, evidently piqued by her suggestion. Glimmer handles the outburst with nary a care, amusement written in that smug grin of hers. Catra drags a hand down her face. “First Bow, now you? What is it with you Etherians and wanting to ship out your friends? I already told Bow why—”

“Yeah, yeah, messy history and all that jazz.” Glimmer interjects, taking the wind out of Catra’s sails. “You may be able to get over Bow with that explanation, but it won’t work on me. We’re like this,” Glimmer crosses her fingers to represent their tight knit relationship, “so quit beating around the bush and say why you’re really against asking Adora.” 

Catra bears her teeth in a snarl, fur bristling as she puffs up. It’s a warning. ‘Tread carefully.’ Glimmer doesn’t yield under the intimidating glower, meeting her head on. This is Catra trying to deflect and no amount of growling and hissing is going to deter Glimmer.

Eventually, Catra lowers her hackles, surrendering as she deflates like a popped balloon, anger melting away. “Ugh, we are too alike.” 

“And it only took a world ending event to realize that. So, spill.”

Catra brings up her next leg to join the one already on the sill, hugging them close to her chest as her tail wraps around them. “You tell another soul this and I’ll deny it until the day I die.” Propping her chin on her knees, Catra hugs herself tighter and sighs. “I’m… worried, I guess.” 

Glimmer’s brow furrows until it hits her. “You’re thinking she might only agree to go with you because she feels obligated to.”

“Ding, ding, give the shiny Queen a prize.” Catra’s sarcastic response is received with a flat stare. Sighing again, “Yeah, that’s the gist of it. I don’t want her to say yes just because it’s  _ me  _ asking. If we end up doing this, it should be because we both want this.” 

“Adora’s come a long way, Catra. You both have. She’s not the same person who believed the salvation of the world fell solely on her shoulders.” Glimmer explains. “Besides, you won’t know her opinion unless you speak with her.” 

“Feels like we’ve been ‘talking’ forever.” Her and Adora have been expressing their innermost thoughts ever since they learned how to be around each other again.  _ ‘So shouldn’t we be over this?’  _

“Want my honest take on things?” When Catra’s ears perk up and angle towards her, a sign she’s listening, Glimmer continues. “Whatever residual guilt you have left over is influencing your decisions when it comes to asking Adora certain questions. Like now, for example. Moving to Halfmoon is a big choice, and you fear the hold you have over her will affect her answer. I get that. You want a response that’s  _ hers _ .” Glimmer reaches out to place a hand on her shoulder. “Nevertheless, you won’t know for sure unless you speak with her. For all your worrying, Adora might surprise you. She’s always been fairly good at that.” 

Catra unfurls from her fetal position to swing her legs over the edge, sandals brushing against the glossy tiles. “I hate how much sense you’re making. That throne give you knowledge or something?” 

“I had great teachers and life lessons I survived.” Glimmer scoots closer to Catra, bumping shoulders. When her actions aren’t met with the response she expects, Glimmer moves her face around to get a closer look at Catra’s. Doubt clouds her features. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“What if—” biting her lip, eyes screwed shut, Catra steadies herself, “What if I want to stay here in Brightmoon? Instead of asking Adora to go with me, what if I ask her about staying here? Bow, he mentioned it when we spoke.” 

“You’d want to stay here?”

A half-hearted shrug. “I mean, it’s not so bad here. The colours are too bright and hurt my eyes, and the accommodations are so luxurious it’s sort of obnoxious. And the people here are sickeningly nice.” Catra looks back outside and Glimmer follows suit. Children run around, playing with each other, giggling and screaming as kids should. “But, I guess that’s part of the charm. The food’s pretty good, too. Plus, I’d get to see Adora and you guys everyday.” The end bit is said more as admission to herself, all soft and sentimental, but Glimmer hears her.

Glimmer covers her mouth, eyes sparkling and cheeks hurting from her too wide smile. 

Catra’s gentle countenance vanishes, grimacing. “No, no, no, no. Fix your face right this instant! I swear, Sparkles, if you say anything—”

“I can’t believe it! You really like us!” Too late. Glimmer glomps her up in a firm hug, going as far as placing a kiss on her cheek. “I mean, I always knew you did, who wouldn’t like us, right? But you really, really like us! That is so adorable!”

“It is not!” Catra fights to escape the embrace, shoving her hand in Glimmer’s face. Holy shit, was this girl strong. “Sparkles!”

“Okay, okay.” Glimmer lets her go, though that stupid twinkly shine those in the Best Friend Squad were known for remains. “Catra, you  _ have  _ to talk with Adora. No excuses. Do you even understand how happy that would make her?”

Well, Catra has some idea. That doesn’t stop her from asking, “You think so?”

“Absolutely.” 

“Then I’ll try, I suppose.”

“Great. Oh, I can’t wait! Us four living together is going to be such a blast!" 

“She has to say yes first, Twinkles.”

“Which she will.” Glimmer performs a little clap before a sly smirk slithers onto her lips. “Now, let’s talk about the way Cessair was making eyes at you?”

Shudder. “Yuck, don’t even remind me. My fur’s never felt so grimey and if I could shed at will, I would.”

Glimmer lets out a hearty laugh, not caring at the way the other nobles stare at her.

***

After conversing with Glimmer, Catra took her leave. She waved to her mother on the way out who was chatting with another noble and Micah. It’s not often she got to see old friends outside of Halfmoon and she deserved a break after running a kingdom for as long as she has. And with this meeting out of the way, C’yra and her could spend the rest of her visit here in each other’s company.

At the moment, she’s aimlessly wandering the hallways, lost in her thoughts as she goes over her chat with Glimmer. 

“Sparkles actually made some valid points.” Catra mutters to no one. The afternoon sunlight pours through the arched windows and into the castle, the silhouettes of the window frames gliding over Catra as she passes them. “Talk. Sure, I can do that.  _ We  _ can do that.” 

Absentmindedly, Catra drags her hand along the decorated columns along the stretch, mindful to keep her claws sheathed so she doesn’t scratch the bejeweled bands wrapped around the pristine granite. “Living here would be nice.” Going to sleep next to Adora every night, waking up to Adora’s face every morning, being able to touch Adora almost every waking hour. Merely imagining the possibilities causes her tail to tremble. “There’s not much left to do in Halfmoon. I’d be leaving my moms, though. Would they be okay with that?”

Just then, a castle guard walks by and she glances up at them for the briefest of seconds, but it’s enough to cause her to pause. Usually, Catra paid them no mind, exchanging cursory greetings in passing and such as she went about her business. This instance is vastly different (and strange) for the mere fact she actually  _ saw  _ their face. The guards in Brightmoon were rarely ever seen with their helmets off, and by rarely, she meant never. Stranger yet, as Catra stares after their back, they peek over their shoulder to wink at her before disappearing around the bend. 

_ That  _ isn’t a normal wink. 

“Was that Double Trouble?” Catra hadn’t heard from them in months. Not that she expected them to reach out to her or anything. There was nothing to gain, after all. “What are they doing here? Actually, forget it, I’m better off not knowing.” Double Trouble in disguise? Good luck to the poor sap who caught their eye. 

The moment she turns back to her original path, Catra bumps into someone. There aren’t a lot of people out there who could boast about getting the jump on Catra and the fact someone actually did vexes her.

“Careful, dear. Wouldn’t want you hurting that pretty face of yours.” 

Oh, sweet mother of...

Today’s certainly the day to test Catra’s self-restraint. 

Cessair plants himself in her way, his well-built form looming above her smaller frame as she cranes her neck to meet his eyes. Eyes that rove shamelessly over her body. 

Catra crosses her arms behind her back, hiding the way they flex and spasm, begging to retaliate. “Thanks for the tip.” She steps to the side of him, eager to end this unnecessary talk, but he has other ideas apparently. Cessair moves in time with her, blocking her path. 

“What seems to be the hurry?” He invades her personal space, deliberately boxing her in like he did the other princess. “You know, I’ve had my eye on you ever since you walked into the room. Such an exotic species you Magicats are. To think you were thought to be extinct, but here you are, and more beautiful than ever.” For every inch Catra recoils, he leans in closer until she can feel his breath wafting across her face. 

_‘Oh, please.’_ Catra rolls her eyes, yelping in surprise as his hand trails up her side to play with her braided tuft, fur bristling. _‘Okay, enough’s enough.’_

“Listen, Scissors—”

“Cessair—”

“Don’t care. I don’t think you know who I am.” Catra walks her fingers up the arm toying with her hair, lips curled sweetly in a toothless grin.

“Why, you’re Princess Catra of D’riluth III, heir to Halfmoon’s throne.” And, to Catra’s embarrassment, he’s visibly proud of possessing such trivial knowledge. 

Catra’s hand finds his, squeezing it slightly and Cessair clearly believes his ‘charms’ are working on her. “See, there’s the difference. You know  _ of  _ me, but you don’t  _ know  _ me.” In the blink of an eye, Catra has him on his knees and the offending limb twisted at a painful angle as she clutches his face tightly in her other hand, the tips of her claws digging into his skin. “The pissed off woman before you is not Princess Catra. This is Catra who helped defeat an interplanetary dictator and lived to tell the tale. Catra, who’s known for kicking asses then taking the clothes of said assholes backs. The same Catra who is in a happily committed relationship with Adora, though you may better know her as She-Ra.” Ignoring his muffled cries, Catra squeezes his face harder, bringing hers closer. “So, what makes a lowly piece of trash like you think you’d ever be worth my time?”

He’s not given the chance to grunt or plead as Catra snaps his wrist and throws him against a column, colliding face first with the granite and slumping onto the floor, unconscious. 

Catra sneers at his crumpled form, a shiver of disgust racing up her spine as she smooths her hair. “I need a bath.” Stepping over Cessair, Catra resumes her trek forward, now with the purpose of taking a nice, cleansing shower. She meets two guards along the way, pointing over her shoulder in passing. “Someone made a mess back there, might wanna take a look.” 

***

Adora sinks down on a dirt patch beneath a tree, resting back on the trunk, its scattered shade providing cover from the early afternoon’s light. She takes a deep breath. Everything is sore, her ribs especially. This training had been as harsh as Scorpia said it would be. Huntara didn’t let them rest for more than five minutes before rattling off her next orders. 

Sighing, Adora lets her head fall against the rugged tree bark. Staring through the gaps amongst the branches, Adora subconsciously massages her tender side. Scorpia had got in a good whack with that tail of hers, and by the stars, did it hurt. The fault’s her own though, she should’ve known better to try and attack an opponent with a prehensile tail from the rear. 

As expected, Scorpia fussed and apologized over and over again, even though Adora struggled to reassure her that it was okay. Blacking out for the span of ten seconds hadn’t helped her case, but really, she was fine. Embarrassed, but fine.

Hushed laughter bubbles up in her throat. Scorpia was such a gentle giant. 

Closing her eyes, Adora slumps further against the tree, the rough bark digging into the exposed skin of her back. The leaves above rustle as a pleasant breeze swishes through the canopy, and across her body, the smell of dirt and fresh grass tickling her nose. In the wake of her fatigue and aching ribs, Adora feels at peace.  _ ‘See, I  _ _ can  _ _ relax.’ _

As she recuperates, she considers her talk with Double Trouble. 

_ ‘Having Catra live here with me? I can barely function during her visits, I might implode if she stays here permanently.’  _ Envisioning such causes warmth to pulse in her chest. Waking up to the sight of Catra every morning, oh she could only imagine. So cute and innocent as she slept, batting away Adora’s finger as she pokes and prods her, whining in that sleepy croak of hers,  _ ‘Adora, let me sleep.’  _

“Hey, Adora.” 

Speak of the adorable devil.

Years later and Adora still gets butterflies like a teenager head over heels in love at hearing those two simple words.

"Hey, Catra."

Catra flashes her teeth. "You look like shit."

Adora snickers, sides protesting at the harmless action. "You should try looking in a mirror on mornings, then."

"Lies. I look fantastic." 

“Dried drool and eye crust is what you call fantastic?”

“If it’s on me, it has to be.”

Adora watches with open admiration as Catra slips down from her perch. Catra's limitless flexibility is a trait she finds so endearing. She could curl herself into the cutest of balls, or twist her spine in directions that looked positively painful. 

Catra joins her on the ground, scooting as near as possible. "Ew, you're all stinky and sweaty."

"You don't  _ have  _ to be so close to me, you know." Adora states, moving to lay her head in Catra’s lap.

It’s almost muscle memory the way Catra takes to stroking her hair, lingering at the nape of Adora’s neck where the buzzcut is, a spot she absolutely loves when Catra plays with it. "What happened to you, anyway?"

"Scorpia happened." Adora further explains when met with a questioning brow. "Huntara had us spar to cool down, and Scorpia clotheslined me with her tail." Then, a faint blush rises on her cheeks. “I was, uh, I was out for a bit.”

"Pfft, lame." 

“Yeah, yeah, Ms. I’m-cooler-than-you.”

“Glad you finally admitted it.” The statement is met with a quiet snort. “Kinda peaceful here.” The glade is a section of the royal gardens, inconspicuously tucked away behind tall hedging. Catra sniffs the air, the scent of soil and grass fresh and pungent, most likely due to the training earlier. The trodden dirt is disturbed by skid marks and dig outs and was that a human sized crater? 

Some feet away from the pair is a pond, reeds and pond grass jutting out in its shallow depths. Out on the far end of the circular clearing is a thicket of trees, small critters sniffing around the undergrowth. 

"Hey, Adora."

Adora peers up in time to see Catra leaning down, face inching closer before she closes the gap between them, warm lips pressing against her chapped ones. Catra can't fight the smile curling her lips, and she pulls back a fraction, meeting icy blue. Adora shares a similar expression, huffing slightly. 

“Told you it wasn’t over.” 

Confusion melts away into realization. “Oh, you little sneak.”

Catra sticks out her tongue, quickly pulling it back in as Adora lurches up to bite it. 

Adora lays back down, arms resting on her stomach. Catra’s tail slithers out to brush against her cheek before draping across her torso. “Anything exciting happen at the treaty talk?”

“We had to sit and listen to some idiot drone on and on about why the other kingdoms should help him.” Catra touches the tuft she had braided earlier. “He also tried to hit on me afterwards, but not before practically undressing me with his eyes.”

“I think I’m supposed to feel jealous, but I don’t?”

“Good, because it’d be pointless. As if I’d ever entertain such a non-entity when I have the person I’ve wanted all my life as mine.” Catra kisses her again and Adora hums.

A comfortable silence lapses between them. Basking in the speckles of sunlight and the attention Catra gives her, Adora melts away from the real world, dozing as she floats on a wave of delight. Catra, on the other hand, studies her profile while carding her fingers through her hair, Glimmer’s words echoing in her mind. 

_ ‘I can do this. Nothing to it.’  _

Taking a deep breath, Catra steels her nerves. “Adora—” 

"Figured this is where you wandered off to.”

Oh, come on, universe! 

She loves her mother, she truly does. The woman was a blessing, but also a curse because she had  _ the  _ worst timing possible. Like that time she was trimming a delicate area that needed the utmost of care, only for her to burst in the bathroom and startle Catra.

A patch as long as her stripes.

“Mom,” The word is weak and trailed with weaker laughter, “Finished your talk with Micah, I see.”

“Yes. Pulled a map from Etheria knows where and said he and Glimmer had to make preparations for tomorrow. Whatever that means.” She makes a show of pulling herself up on the hedge she was previously peeking over, traipsing across the close growing bushes like she weighs nothing. “He looked really happy.”

“Him and Glimmer are going pastry hunting.” Adora explains as she sits up to properly address C’yra, unaware of the sullen air radiating from Catra. “It’s a tradition they made up. Just don’t tell Angella. She’s not a fan of them eating so much sugar.”

“My lips are sealed.” C’yra hops off the hedge, cocking her head to a side. “Is everything alright, Catra?” 

Arms crossed, leg bouncing, a metaphorical storm cloud hangs above her head. “I’m fine, just tired, I guess.” A poor excuse that her mother will easily see through. Catra can’t find it in here to care. She was on the verge of asking a life changing question when her mother interrupted, so sue her if she’s a bit grumpy. 

Features pinched, C’yra regards her with concern, tail curling in the air. “Alright.” 

Code for: We’ll talk later. __

Yeah, Catra guessed as much. 

Tapping her lips, C’yra gives a cursory glance to the training area. Whistling low when she catches sight of the human sized crater. "Were you guys having a training session, or a mini war?"

Bashfully, Adora scratches her cheek. “We kinda got  _ too  _ into it,” Gaze flicking to a tree over yonder missing a sheet of bark, which she sorta, maybe rammed Scorpia into.

"I’d say so.” C'yra murmurs, stooping to inspect a gouge in the earth. “You must really like training, huh?”

“Well, yeah, you could say that.”

“Then, how about a little spar? You versus me.” She plucks a lone staff off the ground, and tosses another to Adora who reflexively catches it. 

"Wait, wait, wait, what?” Adora looks between the staff and C’yra, contemplating. She’s sore and tired and in dire need of a warm bath to relax her muscles. The sensible part of her would politely decline and maybe ask for a rain check. The adrenaline junkie in her, however... Well, she’s itching to accept despite her body saying otherwise. Standing, Adora nods, grinning wide. “Yes.”

"Woah, woah." After being quiet for so long, Catra pipes up in protest, slotting herself between her nutcase girlfriend and mother. “Didn't you get your butt kicked earlier? Are you sure you wanna do this?" 

"Okay, I did  _ not  _ get my butt kicked, and I definitely want to do this."

Catra clicks her tongue, and looks to the heavens. Trying to talk Adora out of an activity that involved physical exertion was impossible. "Fine, whatever, but I better not hear you complaining later."

Adora beams, sending her a wink to which Catra answers with an unimpressed blink before returning to her spot below the tree. 

C'yra twirls her staff, her battle stance far more relaxed compared to Adora's shallow squat. She flashes a quick grin before she strikes, coming in hard and fast. To Adora's credit, she's able to block the blow, although the force behind the attack sends needles through her arms. Using her strength, Adora pushes her back, following up with a horizontal arch that C'yra ducks, and hops over when Adora pivots with a low sweep, backflipping away from the warrior princess.

Adora rights herself, shaking out her body. Her side is already flaring up, but she pays it no mind. It wasn’t everyday she got to fight a Magicat Queen and she is going to savour every second. 

Adora sprints forward, C’yra doing the same as the distance between them soon lessens and wooden instruments crack against one another like thunder rolling as they collide. 

Meanwhile, Catra lazes in the shade, ears wiggling each time wood meets wood. Their laboured breathing (Adora mostly) and loud grunting becomes white noise as she focuses on the sky. 

The sun dips lower in the sky, elongating the shadows of the trees surrounding her; the sunshine loses its bright harshness and the biting heat of the day ebbs away to a cooler setting.

Catra sniffs. Since her mother inserted herself in their moment and stole her girlfriend away from her, she’d have to find another chance to ask her question. Damn it. She was so ready this time, too. Now, she has to work back up the nerve and Catra  _ hates  _ feeling nervous, so unsure of herself. 

Something lands on her head, interrupting her internal grousing. She touches a hand to her head to remove whatever rude part of nature decided to assault her person. 

Clutched in a loose fist is a cold and clammy creature, and when she opens her hand, she sees a puny lavender tree frog. Rather than hopping away, the tiny amphibian trains its beady blue eyes on Catra. 

"My head look like a shrub to you, pipsqueak?" Catra questions the frog. It just rests in her palm, regarding her despite the gargantuan difference in size. "I could squish you right here… but that would be unnecessary." Even a creature as small as this served a purpose in life. In response, it hops from her hand, to her arm and lands on her shoulder. "You start croaking, and I _ will  _ fling you in that pond." 

Back on Adora and C'yra's side, their dual wages on, but Adora's faltering the longer she keeps going. 

Blood pounds in her ears, chest heaving as she seeks to refill her lungs. She's beginning to wane, the exhaustion from her training earlier starting to take its toll on her body. Her swollen muscles cry out for mercy, her rib-cage protesting with every twisting motion she makes to avoid being hit. 

She feels so alive.

C'yra is hardly fazed, untouched for the most part, a few dirt stains on her face and clothing the only signs she's been in a battle. Other than that, she’s fresh and full of energy and has a clear advantage over a swiftly fading Adora. 

C'yra shouts before bounding forward, the claws of one hand bared. Adora deflects a jab aimed at her torso, soon realizing that it's a distraction. She dodges a sharp swipe to her face at the last second, but fails to notice the riposte. 

Adora receives a hard backhand, equilibrium thrown out of sorts as she stumbles to the ground, bracing on her staff. She tries to gather her bearings, knees trembling and knocking together as she tries to stand.  _ 'Get with it, Adora! Catra's watching you get your ass handed to you!'  _

In an instant her attention flicks to Catra, very much forgetting where she is. 

Adora’s certain her heart skips two beats.

Wearing a simple black vest tucked into a pair of leggings, Catra appears totally relaxed save for the slight crease in her brow as she sky gazes under the big tree. The fractured rays sparkling through the treetops dot her body in opalescent light. She’s like those beautiful stained glass windows back in the palace. 

Catra catches her staring, and arches a brow, mouth curving upwards. A beam of light shines across her face, and the result knocks what little breath Adora needs right out of her. 

Lovely. So, so lovely. Catra is beautiful in every sense of the word. Sharp eyes that make you want to run away or submit to her every beck and call. Soft-to-the-touch curls frame her freckled face—Adora always loved those freckles—and a defined jaw line that fills many with envy. In this lighting, Catra really does look like a princess right out of a fantasy book. 

_ ‘Wow. And she’s  _ _ my _ _ girlfriend.’  _

"Distractions get you killed on the battlefield, Adora!" 

_ ‘Shit!’  _ By the time Adora gets her footing, C’yra is already on her, poised for an overhead strike, and Adora hastily assumes a position ready to defend. 

If Huntara were here now she’d have her do suicides until she puked. 

With her grip sloppy and palms sweaty, C’yra effortlessly breaks her guard, feigning her initial attack and executes an uppercut, knocking Adora’s staff loose, leaving her wide open. 

C’yra doesn’t let up on her assault, dropping to the ground and balancing on her arms as she splits Adora’s legs apart, destroying her balance entirely. 

_ ‘Move! Move! Move, damn it!’  _ But, she can’t, frozen in place as time slows.

Still hugging the floor, C’yra exerts her upper body strength, skillfully transitioning into a windmill, sweeping Adora’s feet from beneath her, and standing in a single motion as she delivers a back kick to her torso.

Match over.

Adora crash lands in the pond, creating a splash. She struggles to sit upright as water pools in her lap, face twisted in a grimace. Pain, pain, pain, it’s the main thing her brain can register. From the dull pain of her heavily bruised chest to the hot needles digging into the sinews of her muscles. 

“Losing focus at the sight of a pretty face, Adora?” C’yra shakes her head disapprovingly, tone playful. “How’d you survive the war, I wonder.”

Apparently content to lounge in the water, Adora crosses her legs, strained laughter leaving her. “I did see that pretty face on occasion, maybe that’s why.”

“You’re such an idiot.” Catra announces, sashaying her way towards the pair. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” A beat passes. “Okay, that was a lie. My ribs are killing me and there’s a ringing in my ears.” 

“Sounds like a mild concussion.” 

Catra bends down, grasping Adora’s arm. “Come on, let’s get you out of there before pneumonia is added to your list of mounting problems.” She tugs Adora out, supporting her weight. Despite Adora being soaked to the bone, Catra holds her peace, putting Adora’s well-being first.

“That ear bang might’ve been a tad excessive for a sparring session. Sorry, dear.” 

“No harm done… well, harm  _ was  _ done, so I can’t exactly say that.” Adora mutters. “It’s alright, then?”

C’yra chuckles. “Let’s get you dried off before dusk falls.” C’yra puts away both sticks, leading them back to the toasty confines of the castle.

“So, you think I have a pretty face?” Catra says, feigning disinterest. 

Adora responds without hesitation, angling her face to whisper, “Oh, I think you’re gorgeous.” 

She takes the subsequent blush that blooms on her cheeks as a consolation prize for getting her butt whooped. 

“Yeah, well,” Her ears tilt downward as she leans into Adora’s chest, meekly murmuring, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Ah, young love.” C’yra breathes, features softening. “Reminds me of your mother and I—”

“Can you not?”

Catra’s complaint goes ignored as C’yra divulges the details of how she and Khepri came together. A tale of the village recluse, and the fierce heart-throb.

“Seriously, why are you like this?”

“Funny, that’s what I wonder about you.”

“Shut up, dummy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus is the conclusion of chapter 2. After seeing Adora's wish in the finale, I loved the idea of Catra living in Brightmoon with Adora and the others. Can you imagine how much mischief they'll get up to? 
> 
> We'll see how Angella escaped the void and Catra's role in that. We also get some mother-daughter time.
> 
> I'll probably take some time so my mind can recuperate and the creative juices can flow again.
> 
> See you next chapter!


End file.
